You Only Live Once
by Lounge256
Summary: Harry is helped by young Tom Riddle to visit and alter the canon timeline. Which is the true Potter? Can he put his life right without being seen by Canon Harry? Regular updates. CANON after AU - all facts true. REVIEW please, first fanfic. Future pairs.
1. Snape's Dark Secret

**AN: **The first few chapters of this fanfiction are an introduction and contain some of the nuances of the story. The main adventure begins at around the 5th chapter, though the 4th does include some useful information for future chapters.

Happy reading!

* * *

There was never any doubt that this was the stupidest thing they had ever done. Hermione had told them it was stupid, but then again she was always doing that. Nevertheless, nobody was going to help them out of this mess.

It was less than a term into Harry and Ron's first year at Hogwarts and they had already helped Fred and George, Ron's older brothers, to sneak into the Owlery late at night to mail a Hogwarts toilet seat to their younger sister, Ginny. It was quite a surprise when their old owl, Errol, dropped the toilet seat onto Fred's head at breakfast the next day, with a _charming_ note attached from Mrs. Weasley. Harry and Ron were also in the habit of exploring the castle whenever they had the opportunity, whether that opportunity was a weekend or night-time. It had always gone swimmingly, with so many discoveries to be made, but there had been plenty of narrow escapes, especially when Snape was on the prowl.

This time, however, the pair were convinced that there was a secret chamber in the dungeons, accessible only from Snape's office. Snape was a sneaky slimeball, and so he'd clearly hidden something in a secret dungeon. Maybe it was treasure, like in the Muggle stories. Maybe it was a store of illicit potions and illegal ingredients. Maybe it was a crypt, storing the remains of his least favourite pupils. Hopefully it would be full of dangerous draughts and bubbling brews which they could test. Harry and Ron knew Snape would be patrolling the corridors early Tuesday morning, from midnight, so they snuck out then. Thankfully the Fat Lady was fast asleep, so she didn't catch them sneaking out. At the end of the charms corridor they thought they caught a glimpse of Mrs. Norris' tail, but the rest of the expedition was uneventful.

"You take this side," whispered Harry as they entered Snape's office, "and I'll check around his desk for secret switches and levers and hidden panels and scrolls and potions and treasure." Ron had to shush him to get him to calm down. Usually it was he, Ron, that got over-excited. Harry opened drawers upon drawers in the desk. Within each drawer there were more, smaller drawers which seemed to grow as you focused on them, only to reveal even more drawers among their contents. This truly was a magical desk, but it wasn't what they were looking for. As he finished with the tiny compartments on the legs of the desk, Ron suggested that they look in the adjoining room.

"But that's Snape's room!" complained Harry. "I'm not going in there!"

"If Snape really is hiding something it'll be in his room..." Both Harry and Ron jumped, and spun round to see Hermione leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing her nightdress and was carrying _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three_ by Miranda Goshawk, clearly having come straight from the dormitories. "Oh, honestly!" she sighed. "Don't you know anything about people? Everyone keeps their most important things close to them, usually in their rooms."

"And their most private things," grinned Ron

"Whatever you're thinking, Ronald, I don't want to know," she retorted, shaking her head. Harry thought he saw the tiniest hint of a smile on her face, but it was probably just the moonlight. Hermione had become a lot more friendly since Harry and Ron had saved her from the troll earlier this week. She pushed open the door to Snape's cavern-like room and led the boys inside. Snape's bed consisted of a thin mattress on a crude wooden pallet, and all of his furniture appeared just as rustic.

"Why would a wizard sleep in such a crude bed?" wondered Hermione. Not caring, Harry and Ron proceeded to bounce on it with glee. With looks of shock, the immediately bounced off as the bed gave a loud crunch. Hermione began to scold them when they heard footsteps echoing off the walls of the dungeon corridor. Someone was coming. There was nowhere to run to. The only way out was through Snape's office, through the dungeon and along the corridor where the footsteps were coming from. Ron tore his roving eyes from a letter under Snape's pillow and stuffed it in his pocket as the footsteps came to a halt outside the office door. As quickly as a cockroach, the three of them ran into Snape's wardrobe and silently shut the doors.

Hermione peered through the gap in the roughly-carved doors as Snape walked into his room, lighting the torches in the wall brackets. He then opened the ragged curtains in the window just above the level of the lake, letting the first feeble rays of the rising sun crawl into the room. There was no way he couldn't hear all three of their hearts beating. Snape left the room, seemingly oblivious of the three intruders, to prepare for the first lesson of the day, a lesson in which each of them should be taking their places. But there was no way they could get into the lesson without being noticed. There would be no making Potions of Portliness for any of them.

"How will we pass our exams if we don't know how to make a Potion of Portliness?" moaned Hermione. "I'm going to fail and it's all because of your ridiculous escapades. I should never have come with you..." Harry and Ron took no notice of her, scuffling around in the back of the wardrobe.

Suddenly, there was a click and the back of the wardrobe opened up, tipping Harry, Ron and Hermione down a large shaft. They couldn't help but to cry out. As Ron and Harry's robes flapped above their heads, Hermione could swear she saw Snape looking down at them. They plummeted down the shaft until the wardrobe doors became a pinpoint of light in the distance and they had no way of telling how far down they were or how far was left to fall. Would they fall like this forever?


	2. Go to McGonagall!

The wind whipped across Harry's face, bit into Ron's exposed arms and blew through Hermione's hair as the three of them fell for what felt like an eternity. Harry and Ron were looking around, their eyes streaming in the wind. Hermione had disappeared, they were sure. They could each see only one other blurred form. They'd lost Hermione. The brains of the trio... gone!

Suddenly two pairs of hands shot forward simultaneously and grabbed the two boys, pulling them away from their falls. They heard a sudden giggling as they left the air stream and saw Hermione standing over them as they lay sprawled on the stone floor.

"You look so funny," giggled Hermione. "We were falling really slowly, under a time-slowing spell. I stepped outside it, and you two just hung there, with stupid looks on your faces. You should have seen yourselves..." She was overcome with another surge of giggles and buried her now-blushing face in her hands, her body shaking gently as she tried to calm herself. While she was busy, the boys took time to look around the chamber they had entered. The shaft seemed only a few metres in length from here, and they could hear Snape's silky voice filtering down from above. With every drop of malice possible, he queried their absence to the potions class at large. Perhaps he didn't know they were down here.

Nevertheless, they were trapped. They had no way of getting back up to the castle, so the only way was onwards. When Harry and Ron looked back, Hermione was waiting for them at the entrance to the passage, leaning against the ornately carved archway with her book in her hand.

"How did you know that we weren't falling as far as we'd thought?" asked Ron, surprising Harry with his sudden astuteness.

"It's obvious," smiled Hermione, "when you have this _incredibly useful_ item called a _magic wand_." Her voice dripped with playful sarcasm as she gestured to the book in her hands. "_Specialis revelio_ can tell you whether you're in a magical field, as well as telling you the magical properties of an artefact. As soon as I knew what type of field we were in I could throw of the fabric of the spell and walk out of its effect."

"How do you know all this?" asked Harry, blinded by Hermione's skill. "This is at least third year magic." Hermione just pointed again to the title of her book. 'The Standard Book of Spells, _Grade 3_'. "Wow," he continued when he'd figured out what she meant, "you're brilliant, Hermione!"

"Thank you, Harry," beamed Hermione, spinning away along the passage and humming to herself. She was indeed a genius, and was already almost three years ahead of everyone else. In another few weeks she would be able to perform Switching Spells. As she went, she lit the torches on the walls in different colours.

The cave at the end was the only destination possible. The walls were covered with large blank portraits, cabinets of coloured vials and a smattering of small pieces of parchment, also blank. Each portrait was draped in red and gold hangings, unlike the green and silver they had expected. Hermione cast her spell over one of the portraits and a picture of a smiling woman faded into existence for a fraction of a second before disappearing again. The eyes lingered for a shade longer than the rest of the picture, and they seemed somehow familiar to each of the adventurous trio. It was as if they'd known those eyes for a long time...

Harry walked straight towards a pedestal in the centre of the dome-shaped room, which the others had seemed to miss. Their eyes had slid straight over it, and the book which adorned it. The book's cover was inscribed with spiky and strangely mesmerising runes. As he gazed upon each individual rune, it glowed and spun, melting away into the cover. Some of them reminded him of things he had once seen. Some reminded him of people he knew, or things he had done. As the last rune winked out of existence, the book flipped open on the first page.

"Come and look at this," urged Harry. Ron and Hermione wandered over with questioning looks.

"Look at what? There's nothing there..." said Hermione, perplexed.

"There's a large, black book on a pedestal. The pedestal is in the shape of an eagle, or some sort of bird of prey. The eyes appear to be sapphires. Apart from that, you're right – there is nothing there." Harry gestured to the pedestal as he described it.

"Are you ok, Harry? You're doing a Quirrel..." chuckled Ron. He and Harry referred to a slightly crazy moment as a Quirrel, after the Professor's faint in the Great Hall at Hallowe'en. As Harry shot Ron a surprisingly dark look, Hermione tried casting the spell that had helped them so far today.

"There's definitely something there, and it's strong... It feels like... I don't know... like it's part of you... Why would this be in Snape's secret cavern?" Hermione's expression became more worried. "Maybe it's meant for you. It's probably dangerous. You should report this to McGonagall!"

"How?" retorted Harry. "We're stuck here. I'll just read the first page to see what it's about." Before Hermione could warn him, he began to read aloud. "_This spellbook is the property of T. Riddle._ See? It's just someone's spellbook. Who was T. Riddle though? Do you think it could have been Snape?"

"I'm sure I saw something about T. Riddle in the library in 'Hogwarts: A History'. I think he's an old student or something," mused Hermione.

"Harry," Harry continued, "if you're reading this, my work is done. Within these pages lies everything you need to know for the future. Everything will become clear as you turn the first page. Read on. T.R." He flipped over the crinkled page.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"


	3. The Riddle Book

Snape's voice faltered in the dungeon above as Hermione let out a yell. As Harry looked at the first page of the spellbook, nothing unusual happened. A bead of sweat rolled down each of their cheeks as they breathed a collective, refreshing sigh of relief.

"There's a spell in here that I don't know," claimed Harry.

"Only one?" asked Hermione sarcastically, believing that a spellbook would have more spells in it.

"Yeah, but it's right in the middle of the page. There's all this writing and pictures around it."

"I wish I could see," moaned Hermione sadly, "but whatever you do, don't try to cast it." It was a classic dilemma. Should he cast the spell and accept whatever dangers may come from it, or should he leave it and always wonder what would have happened until it drives him mad? Harry made sure he wasn't holding his wand as he described the spell to Hermione.

"It looks like some sort of summoning spell, judging by the pictures. The incantation is-"

"Stop!" exclaimed Hermione. "Don't cast it!"

"I won't," grinned Harry. "I've got my wand in my pocket. The incantation is '_accio virga_'." Hermione squealed as Harry's wand suddenly leapt into his hand, somehow without going through the air between his pocket and his hand. Magic without a wand to channel it was unheard of in this day and age.

"How did you do that?! _Accio virga_!" Hermione's wand remained where it was. There wasn't even a twitch. She tried again and again to summon her wand, getting more and more flustered with each failure and only slightly mollified by Ron's similar failure. While the others were trying to cast the spell, Harry turned the page to see another note from T. Riddle.

"_This is without doubt the most useful spell I have come across. A wizard is vulnerable to attack without his wand and is completely powerless. This spell is said to negate that, for it is told that it summons your wand to you through any and all restraints that may be out against it. I don't know if there are any ways to get around this spell as even I can't work it. Maybe you are the only one who can, Harry."_

As he read on, Harry never knew that this would be the last time he saw his friends for a long, long time to come. There were many things he didn't know, and that he would come to regret not knowing. There were any chances he would miss, and many chances he would never have had if he had not opened the book. His life would change for the better... in a manner of speaking.

"Try some more!" urged Ron. "Find one that makes food!"

"That's impossible," scoffed Hermione. "Everyone knows food is one of the five principal exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. No substance can be created by pure magic that sustains life. It can be summoned, replicated or destroyed, but never created. The other exceptions include magical items, air, plants & animals and abstracts, I think."

"You can't create paintings?!" queried Ron incredulously.

"Paintings?" asked Hermione, confused. She had to think a while before she realised what Ron had meant. "Oh, no, an abstract doesn't mean an abstract _painting_. It refers to an intangible concept such as thoughts, luck or emotions – happiness... loneliness... love..." She trailed off with a faraway look in her eyes. 'She must be doing a Quirrel,' thought Ron.

"_Temporoportus_," intoned Harry, and he disappeared as though he had disapparated. There was none of the usual loud cracking or turning on the spot involved and points of light winked where he had been standing just moments before. Hermione shook herself out of her reverie to mutter a quiet curse and racked her brains for a solution. None were apparent to her. Ron, meanwhile, was looking at the blank parchments on the walls. They each seemed to be made of the same type of parchment, though it looked quite old.

"Give it up, Ron," sighed Hermione. "There's no use looking at those parchments. They're all blank." Ron seemed to have found what he was looking for, though, as he reached out to one of the many parchments. It was a square piece, about eight inches long, and felt warm to the touch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note he had found under Snape's pillow. It was a square piece of parchment, about eight inches wide, and was covered in spiky handwriting. It was addressed to someone called Lil and clearly unsent.

"Come look at this, Hermione!" called Ron.

"Wow," cooed Hermione, "it's exactly the same size. Even the rips around the edges are in the same place. Look!" She ripped one of the corners off the note. Ron's mouth was a perfect O as the parchment on the wall glowed and lost a corner. Ron took the note back and touched it to the wall parchment. Nothing seemed to happen until he tried to return the note to his pocket. Somehow, it would no longer move. He let go, and the two pieces of parchment merged seamlessly as though they had never been separate.

Hermione gasped, and Ron spun around. Sadly, he spun too far, and ended up pirouetting to face the parchment once more. Once he'd turned more slowly he could see that a pedestal had appeared in the middle of the room where Harry's supposed pedestal was. The only difference was that it was in the shape of some kind of furry animal, probably a badger. Hanging from the badger's nose was a golden locket in the shape of a heart, tied with a pink gold ribbon. Together, Ron and Hermione opened the locket and were consumed by a light as golden as the locket.

As the light faded, they realised they were in the entrance hall. Quickly they ran towards the dungeons and they lesson they were supposed to be attending, bracing themselves for the detentions they would get for being late.


	4. The Amulet of Amortentia

"Look who's decided to grace us with their presence," drawled a silky voice, oozing with malice and sarcasm. "Our loyal protectors are here to save the day again. Where were you? Out chasing more trolls? Or were you at a photoshoot? Sit down. Twenty points from Gryffindor and a detention for each of you."

"Twenty?!" said Ron and Hermione together.

"Each. Plus an extra twenty to Potter for not bothering to show up at all. Or has he been eaten by today's troll?" Snape chuckled to himself, which was an unusual sound, and the pair sat themselves behind a cauldron of water. "As I was saying, the Potion of Portliness is a complex potion, and I doubt many of you would succeed first time. The instructions are on the board-" he waved his wand lazily "-and your ingredients are in the cupboard. You have precisely one hour and three minutes. Begin."

There was a scuffle for the ingredients cupboard as most of the class rushed to get the necessary ingredients. As Ron and Hermione hung back, they took the opportunity to take the locket out and examine it in more detail. Inscribed on the back was another note to 'Lil', but around it were words that didn't seem to be truly on the locket. They read "Amulet of Amortentia".

"What is it with the awfully annoying alliteration, o Amulet of Amortentia?" murmured Hermione softly. Ron smiled as Hermione's intelligence became apparent once more. "I've read about Amortentia in-"

"The library," finished Ron, earning himself a dark scowl from Hermione for his efforts. As Hermione held the locket out in her hand, he noticed a slight jump in a particular direction. "What's over there?" he asked, pointing to the ingredients cupboard, where it seemed to want to go. The crowd around the cupboard had dissipated, so they strode over towards it. As they gathered their ingredients, the locket's jumping grew more fervent. Looking to where it was pointing, Ron, observant as he was, noticed a small square of parchment secreted behind some of the more dusty bottles. He took it out and looked over it, trying to read the same spiky writing as before.

"Lost the lacewings, have you, Weasley?" said Snape behind them, making them jump. Ron immediately shoved the parchment into his pocket and grabbed a handful of lacewings from the jar above him.

Ron and Hermione returned to their cauldron after gathering, among other ingredients, lacewings, billiwig stings, moondew, wand cork and leadbeetle eyes. As Hermione brewed the potion, with a little help from Ron, she muttered the theory behind each of the ingredients.

"Billiwig stings to cause the swelling, but with the side-effect of hovering. Can't put too much in or the effect will be permanent. Leadbeetle eyes to counter the hovering. Need to be cut in half to release the juices well. Side-effect of difficulty walking. Lacewings to ease walking problems, but cause destabilisation of facial features. Moondew to prevent transformations from the lacewings and wand cork to aid the metabolism."

With a final flourish, she stirred the finished potion and left it to simmer for the remaining ten minutes. As she smelled the potion, it smelled like cream buns and she remembered that she had lost track of the conversation earlier.

"As I was saying, amortentia smells like what attracts us most. I can't smell anything on the locket, so the power must be inside." explained Hermione to Ron, who was looking over at Crabbe and Goyle's potion. The surface of their cauldron was covered with lightly flickering flames and filled the dungeon with the smell of roasted pine-nuts. It was another failure for the two lackeys. They were clearly part troll.

At the end of the lesson, Ron took out the crumpled note and opened it up in the corridor, careful to do it after Snape had gone. The two of them knew they should be in Defence against the Dark Arts, but wanted to see what was on the parchment Snape had tried to conceal. It seemed to be another letter to 'Lil'. How many of these were there around the school? Ron tried pressing the locket to the parchment, but the locket just pulled in a different direction. They decided to go to Defence against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrel before they investigated any further.

After an interesting hour studying the relative power of attacking and defensive spells, it was lunchtime. Again, Ron and Hermione waited until everyone had filed out and had gone to the Great Hall before getting the locket and parchment out. As they touched the two together again, the locket seemed to pull slightly downwards, as though it wanted to go downstairs.

"Wherever it's leading us must be between the dungeons and this floor," concluded Hermione, running down the stairs, leading Ron by the hand. He was just smiling as he half fell, half tripped down the wide, sweeping flight of stairs towards the Great Hall. As they reached the entrance hall, the locket began to glow. They stepped towards the centre of the room and it glowed brighter. Suddenly understanding what they had to do, they walked into the middle of the room, onto the Hogwarts crest on the floor, and were whisked away to the cavern beneath the dungeons.

Hermione immediately strode over to the wall and began looking carefully at each of the blank parchments. When she found a piece similar to the one she had taken from Ron, she creased the written fragment slightly to see if the blank fragment reciprocated the action. Meanwhile, Ron opened the locket.

"Hermione," Ron asked as she finally found the correct parchment, "why are you in the Amulet?"

"What?" she asked, bewildered. "Where? Let me see..." She peered into the opened doors of the locket and frowned. "That's not me!" she exclaimed.

"It clearly is," claimed Ron. "Flowing brown hair, cute smile..." He smiled to himself.

"No," she reiterated, "it's not."

"Who is it then?"

"Harry..."


	5. The Riddle Revealed

They stared at the tiny picture in the locket. Strangely, it didn't move, like all other magical pictures did, but remained motionless. For Ron, who had never been into a muggle house, it was a strange experience. There was no friendly wave from the Harry or Hermione depicted, and it began to unnerve Ron. Nevertheless, Hermione began to turn slightly pink as she tore her eyes away.

"If Harry saw this, he'd probably see you, Ron. I think it enables us to see how the others are doing." Thankfully, Ron bought into Hermione's story and smiled.

Meanwhile, Harry appeared to be nowhere. He was floating in a washed-out landscape with no discernible features. He jumped as a voice came from right behind him.

"Hello, Harry," greeted the voice. "I've waited so long to see you. But then again, I haven't." There was a slight chuckle, as though the voice had made a joke. With a great deal of effort, Harry twisted himself round to see where the voice was coming from.

"Who are you?" asked Harry to the boy in front of him. He was about three years younger than Harry and looked very much like him. He had black hair and an average build, but was scarless and had grey eyes.

"I'm Tom," the boy introduced himself, "Tom Riddle. Or at least the essence of Tom Riddle that I, I mean _he_, planted in this book to help you. Do you know how hard it is trying to speak from the point of view of a book?"

"So what's going on?"

"You're in the book you found at the moment. Basically, I'm here to help you get to grips with the important stuff in here, and then I'll tell you what's going on. First, I want you to think about the entrance hall, just after Christmas in your future." Harry put his mind firmly on that date without realising why. The parchment landscape around him blurred and winked out of existence, to be replaced by the castle grounds. The ground was covered in snow and live fairies were sitting in the trees, glowing different colours.

"That was close enough for the first time," said Tom's voice in his head, faint as though it came from far away. As he walked through the Christmas arches towards the castle, snow began to fall, resting softly in his hair. He pushed open the giant doors and looked around. Suddenly he was cannoned into by something at about shoulder height, squealing.

"Harry, you're back! Where did you go?!"

"Hi, Hermione! You can stop crushing me now." He grunted as the air returned to his lungs. "What do you mean 'where did you go'? I've just come back from that cavern we just found in Snape's wardrobe."

"Harry," said a concerned Ron, "it's been weeks since we discovered Snape's cavern. We haven't seen you for so long... Well, Hermione has. I've just seen her. Look at this." He held out the locket and gave it to Harry, who opened it. There was a slight pulse as he did so, and he turned his eyes to the picture inside. "Who do you see?" demanded Ron.

"Errrr..."

"Tell him you see him," whispered Hermione.

"I see you, Ron. When did you get this? Was it an early Christmas present from your mum?" Ron cheered up at this and took the locket back. Seeming to have second thoughts, he gave it to Hermione.

"You show Harry what we've done. I'm off to eat lunch." Ron ran off into the Great Hall, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the entrance hall. They walked onto the crest and found themselves in the cavern. It was very different from how Harry had left it. They'd conjured up sofas and other furniture to turn it into a secret room for them. Hermione pulled Harry onto one of the sofas and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Who did you see in the Amulet?" she asked quietly.

"No-one. The picture was, well, it was just an outline of sorts. It was as if someone was hiding behind the picture, but just out of sight, ready to come forward sometime soon."

"I'll be ready for it when you finally see them," said Hermione, giving Harry a big hug. "Anyway, can you see what we've done?" Harry looked round, and almost all of the pieces of parchment and one of the portraits were now filled in.

"How did you do that?" asked Harry. Hermione explained how and where they had found all the parchments and portraits concerning the mysterious 'Lil'. The portraits had worried them at first, because they thought they had to take them down and carry them to the entrance hall without anyone noticing, but it turned out that the locket opened a passage behind the portrait into the cavern and filled in the portrait in the cavern at the same time. Harry looked around at the parchments, some of which were letters, some of which were diary entries and some of which looked like pieces of work, obviously written by this 'Lil'.

"Do you mind if I take this?" Harry asked, pointing to the second parchment Ron had found.

"Go ahead," urged Hermione. "We have no use for it now." He took the letter and turned back to Hermione, who was lying on the sofa, smiling.

"See you later, Hermione," he said, then quickly cast the spell. The last thing he saw was Hermione sitting bolt upright with a look of distress on her face. Harry had no idea why she was so upset.

Harry was back in the book, and immediately thought of his destination. If this letter was written when Snape was a child, maybe he should go there. He blurred as he travelled back to thirty years ago.

As the world came back into focus, Harry found himself standing on a hill by a large oak. A sudden yell drifted up the hill, followed by hurried footsteps coming this way.

"OY, SNIVELLUS!"


	6. Hogwarts Warts and All

Harry quickly slipped behind the oak tree, scared that he might be spotted. Running over the brow of the hill was a young boy with slightly greasy hair, but who could actually pass for handsome.

"James!" called a girl downhill. "Stop it!"

"Never!" called the first voice downhill. "Come here Snivellus!" As the voice's owner came over the brow of the hill, Harry had to stop himself from crying out. The boy looked just like him, but there were slight differences. Harry's ears stuck out a bit more and his eyes were different. They had the same hair, though – just as untidy. "Come and get me, Evans!" called the boy.

"I'm not falling for that one again, James! Stop attacking Severus or I'll never speak to you again!" James stopped almost immediately, but only after he had shot a quick _furnunculus_ hex towards Severus. Harry recognised the name, and immediately realised who the newly-boil-covered boy was.

Harry followed Severus, who ran sobbing into the Owlery through the grounds entrance. They climbed up to the third floor of owls, Harry careful not to be seen. Severus stroked his owl and walked into the castle, probably down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. Harry reached up and took down Severus' owl.

"This is for 'Lil'", he said as he attached the note to the bird's leg. He took the bird to the window and watched it take off. "I never guessed I would see Snape as anything other than a slimeball..." he mused.

It was the next day, and Severus, or Sev as his classmates called him, saw his owl flying towards him at breakfast, a scroll of parchment on its leg. He fed it an owl treat from his pocket and took the parchment off, unrolling it as he did so. His eyes widened and his face became a normal colour, unlike his usual pale complexion. His jaw dropped as he read on.

'_Dear Sev,_

_I would love to meet you when we next go to Hogsmeade. This might be our last chance, as Professor Dumbledore, who's soon to take up being Headmaster, rather than being Head of Gryffindor, told us that they're going to cancel Hogsmeade visits for the first three years, to go to Hogsmeade until the fourth year. I'll meet you in Madam Puddifoot's - that tea shop you told me has just set up. I'd rather be with you than James at the moment, because James is being a right idiot._

_See you soon,_

_Love Lil x'_

A solitary tear ran down his cheek as he was granted the chance he had never even contemplated. He reread the note a few times until he had memorised every curl of Lil's handwriting, then shook himself, unsure of the note's genuineness. He resolved to reply as soon as he had a private moment and gave his owl an extra owl treat. Grinning, he got up to go to potions and walked to the door to the entrance hall. Stopping, he looked back at the Gryffindor table. A couple of third-years made rude gestures at him, but one young girl with bright green eyes grinned at him shyly. Never did Severus question whether he had sent that letter, or whether he had even written it yet.

Harry watched as the newfound romance blossomed, and gave it a nudge in the right direction every so often. Currently, he was watching the two of them sitting by the lakes, dipping their feet in and making rings on the otherwise still surface. 'Lil' had turned out to be called Lily Evans, which Harry thought was quite a nice name, but the name was nowhere near as beautiful as her smile. He quenched the slight pang of envy. Severus' hair was no longer greasy and colour was flooding back to his cheeks. He smiled almost constantly now, as though his world was perfect and nothing could ever go wrong. Blossoms floated on the surface of the lake, dancing with every ring they made as slowly, tentatively they kissed.

Harry's stomach gave a sudden lurch. His back pocket grew hot. Everything seemed to blur for a moment, and he felt as though he was trying to be pulled apart, but he concentrated on staying together with every fibre of his being. The strange feelings stopped, but his back pocket was still warm. Harry pulled out his wand to find it made of light, as though it were both here and somewhere else.

"Awesome," said Harry, and returned to the present. "Snape should be a bit more mellow now." Harry returned to his own time just a few feet from where he had been standing. He was getting better at this, though he had returned to the spring, where the blossoms were floating on the lake again. This time, no-one dipped their feet in the lake, which had turned a nasty shade of grey. Dark clouds gathered overhead and Hogwarts looked a lot less inviting.

Walking up to the castle, he was buffeted about by a chill wind. A solitary owl passed overhead, hooting mournfully. The bare, scrubby branches of nearby bushes rattled ominously. Harry opened the huge, heavy doors to the entrance hall and looked inside. The torches were still lit on the walls, but their flickering was no longer warm and inviting, but seemed to form more shadows than light.

Harry ran down to the dungeons to see whether Snape had truly been mellowed. His footsteps echoed as they usually did on the slightly slimy steps, which was reassuring. As he approached the main dungeon, he could hear chattering and laughing, which was very unusual, but a good sign. He peered through the barred window of the dungeon and saw a pair of teachers chatting good-naturedly to the class – one male and one female. The male teacher slightly resembled Snape, except he looked a lot nicer and was smiling. Everyone was having a good time, and even Crabbe and Goyle's potion looked good.

The bell went to signal the start of lunch and the students filed out. As he caught sight of Ron, Harry called out.

"Ron! Ron! Where's Hermione?"

"Who are you?"


	7. Constants in a Changing World

"Stop it, Ron," chided Harry. "It's me, Harry. Your best mate." Ron looked blank. "We saved Hermione from a troll at Halloween? You keep on eating my chocolate frogs? We laughed at Dumbledore's 'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak' together?"

"I don't know you. I don't know anybody called Hermione. I've never even heard of Dumbledore. Come with me, though. The headmaster can sort this out." The pseudo-Ron led Harry up to the ground floor, to a stone gargoyle. Harry recognised this as Dumbledore's office.

"See! This is Dumbledore's office!" Harry exclaimed.

"No," said Ron, shaking his head, "this is Professor Riddle's office. '_Pure Power_'." The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the moving stone staircase inside. As they approached the ornate oak door, to which was affixed a plaque labelled 'Professor T. M. Riddle', Ron reached out and touched a blood-red rock, and the door swung open.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," drawled a cold voice. "How lovely to see you again. And who is this you have brought here?"

"He claims to be called Harry Potter, and says that he knows me," explained Ron.

"Do you know him?" asked Riddle.

"No, sir. I don't even know his status." Professor Riddle turned to Harry while taking a set of scales and another blood-red rock from a drawer in his desk.

"Place your wand on the scales, Harry, and your hand on the bloodstone." Harry did as he was told, but nothing happened. "Well, his blood is pure, but his wand, according to the scales, doesn't exist. Do you have a licence for this wand?"

"We've never needed licences," claimed Harry. "Why would I have one?"

"If you don't have a licence, I cannot allow you to have your wand. You may go now." Riddle waved a hand to see them off.

"Give me my wand back!" shouted Harry.

"No! Begone!" Riddle banished them from his office and slammed the door shut with a flick of his wand. Harry was left at the bottom of the stairs, wandless.

Again and again Harry cursed his carelessness. How could he have allowed himself to get his wand taken away? How could he have been so stupid as to give up his only method of defence? How could he leave himself powerless and vulnerable? Suddenly it came to him. He'd forgotten what the Riddle in the book had said to him.

"_Accio virga_," he muttered, and retrieved his wand almost instantly. As he began to walk away with his power restored, a bellow of rage exploded from above him.

"POTTER!!!" By the time Professor Riddle had run down the stairs, Harry was already secreted in the sub-dungeon cavern. It looked very different from the last time he'd seen it as there was nobody to fill it with parchments. Snape had never kept his unsent letters, but still there were portraits hanging on the walls, albeit without the red and gold drapes. They seemed to be full of musty old men, rather than the smiling Lily. There were no sofas, so he sat against the curved wall and pondered his situation. He couldn't believe that Riddle was evil and that he had tricked him into giving him power. Harry vowed never to speak to the young Riddle again, and set about figuring out how to get out of here and begin living an acceptable life.

"_Temporoportus_," muttered Harry, retreating back into the book when he had run out of ideas. "Riddle, where are you?!"

"Right here, Harry. Call me Tom."

"Why should I do anything you tell me? You betrayed me! You tricked me into doing your dirty work, into getting you Dumbledore's job!"

"That was not me. Or rather, it was a different me. In every world I've seen, I turn out to be a bad guy. And when I say bad guy..." Riddle shuddered as thought back to what his other selves had done. "The reason why I sent this book to you is because I need you to stop me. I was killed in my world, and now there are no longer good Riddles. Good people always die. It's a fact of life..."

"I'll never make it a fact of my life. I'm going to stop you right here, right now," Harry resolved.

"You can't do it here," explained Riddle. "You no longer exist here. Lily Evans was your mother. She no longer is. Even your wand doesn't really exist." Harry concentrated on the past, back to before Snape and Lily had got together. He hated having to break them up, but it was for the good of the world. He tried to pull himself back to that point, but it was as if there was something blocking his way, as though the lurch he felt meant he could never go back.

"You can't go back to before a change you made. The only way to change things is from the very beginning, but there's no way to save yourself in this world. You need a new world... A fresh start..." Harry looked perplexedly at Riddle, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in despair. "You haven't been reading the book, have you? Let me show you..." The landscape seemed to turn as pages. Pictures appeared fleetingly across the sky. Writing curled around like trees and bushes. Soon, the landscape was filled with plants and features composed entirely of writing and pictures.

"As you turn through the pages of this book," began Riddle, leading Harry through the written forest, "you will find many powerful spells. No wizard has mastered all of these. Few have mastered even one. I myself have only mastered the very basics, through which I have seen many worlds and created this book, sending it to your world." They began to climb a hill, and it turned into a rocky mountain as they walked higher and higher. "Gaze down into this valley and you will see countless towns dotted around. Each one can be the gateway to a different world. In some of them, Dumbledore does not exist. In others, Hermione doesn't. Across all the worlds, there are, to my knowledge, only two constants."

"And they are?" queried Harry.

"Us."


	8. Foundations for the Future

"Take this world," said Riddle, leading Harry to one of the towns. "In here, Hogwarts is an all boys school. In the neighbouring town..." He gestured to a town on the brow of a nearby hill. "...Hogwarts is all girls. In this one, Hogwarts was never created, and in that one there is no such thing as magic." Harry started towards the town on the hill, but felt Riddle pulling him back. "That world has been altered many times. It is hard to make your mark on it again. This world here has never been touched. It's perfect for you."

Harry walked into the middle of the town, and through the intangible window. Harry barely heard Riddle reminding him to read the spellbook as he was hurled between the worlds. He knew where he should start, but struggled to concentrate on the exact time as he had only ever heard it mentioned in passing. Riddle sensed what he was trying to do and guided him towards the end of the tenth century.

The four were very good friends and had come from all over Britain. They were always reminiscing about how they had met, and had embellished the story so many times that none of them truly knew what was true and what was made up. They were all meeting up in a secluded village in Scotland, which was where Rowena was born. She had worn her favourite jewellery as she waited in the pub for the other three – a strange but alluring headdress and a golden locket in the shape of a heart.

"Ho there, fair Rowena!" came a bellow from the pub door, the light blocked by an enormous form. "Are the others not here yet? Not even 'Sally' skulking in the corner?" Rowena smiled, looking down from the jolly, chuckling man and lightly fingering the locket. As the big, bearded man sat down, the roof of the pub shook, the bartender looking slightly panicky. "A pint of your finest mead, my good man!" he called to the bartender. Checking to see whether the bartender was watching, he leant towards Rowena, his whiskery beard brushing against her ear and her cheek. "Is he safe, or do we need to wipe his memory?" he whispered throatily.

"Don't worry, Godric. He's fine. I've already wiped and confounded him. He won't remember anything."

"You truly are the most brilliant witch of all time," he murmured, then let out a great roar of laughter.

"Oh, do stow it, Godric," chided Rowena. "The others should be here any minute now."

"We already are," came two voices as a witch and a wizard melted into view, one grinning and one scowling. "You ought to be more careful, Godric," grumbled Salazar. "There was a huge group of muggles following your trail who we had to deal with. Oh, don't worry," he said when Rowena and Godric looked shocked, "we only diverted them towards the loch. We wouldn't kill muggles for no reason."

"Well, I made sure he didn't," chuckled Helga. "Silly Sally. Muggles aren't all that bad..."

"Don't call me Sally."

"Anyway," interrupted Rowena, "welcome to Scotland. This is very close to my home town of Hogsmeade. Or rather, a small village consisting of a couple of houses and a few goats farmed by the wizarding families for when the muggle tax collectors come. We can't let them know what we really do, because..." She stopped, with a fearful look in her eyes.

"Nevertheless," continued Helga, "we've all decided to do this. We need to set up a place where all witches and wizards can be taught magic."

"Only pure-bloods," interrupted Salazar.

"We'll talk about that later," replied Rowena diplomatically, now fully recovered. "For the moment, we need to know who each of us has found to help design the school, build it and protect it from muggles. They can't know what we're doing. Now, I've found a ruined castle just near here which we can disguise Hogwarts as. Do I have any objections?"

"I..." began Salazar.

"That's a fantastic idea! Well done! What a genius!" roared Godric, drowning out Salazar.

"Go talk to her father already," muttered Salazar, using the tenth century equivalent of 'get a room'.

When the world had come back into focus, Harry was tucked tight into a damp space. Strangely, the space was wooden, with crude piping. There was also a pair of legs, the feet of which he had ended up sitting on. The bartender didn't look to see who was on his feet, nor did he change his glazed expression when Harry tried to crawl out from underneath the rickety bar. He was careful not to make too much noise as there were others in the pub at the time, one of whom sounded very big. He listened to their conversation for over an hour, getting cramped as he tried not to poke over the bar, not having a clue who they were. What he did figure out, though, was that he was in the right place, that he had found the founders of Hogwarts.

"Harry," whispered an almost silent voice. Harry looked around, almost popping over the bar. Nobody was there. "Harry," called the voice again. He strained to determine from which direction the ethereal voice issued, but it had no direction. "You're so dense," whispered the shadows. Then it came to him – Riddle again.

Harry conjured the book using a spell Riddle had taught him on the long journey. Flicking through, he saw that Riddle had marked a page. The pictures seemed painful, if not painfully contrived. They were barely recognisable as anything, let alone anything useful. The writing, however, was as useful as ever in deciphering the intricacies of the incantation. The warnings were dire, and the consequences of both failure and getting caught were almost unthinkable. To be entirely honest, Harry's imagination was quite good. He pointed his wand over the top of the bar and muttered a single word.

"_Incursio!_"


	9. Invasion

The four founders screwed up their eyes as a blinding light came from the direction of the bar. Salazar, Helga and Rowena stood up and drew their wands in one fluid movement, pointing them towards the bar and the bartender.

"Get your wand out!" hissed Salazar at Godric, who sat there, stunned. Slowly, floorboards creaking as he did so, Godric rose up, towering above the others.

"Come out, wizard!" he roared. Nobody came out. The four of them edged cautiously towards the bar, holding their wands before them. Godric pointed his wand around the bar and muttered, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

"That's a new one," commented Rowena appreciatively.

Godric turned to her and replied, "I finished developing it last week. It paralyses people, so it's completely harmless. There are still a few things to sort out, though. For one, it wears out after a few minutes."

"I'll help you with that," offered Rowena happily. They looked around the bar tentatively to see who they had caught, not sure whether Godric had been entirely accurate in his summary of his cobbled-together magic. Even Godric wasn't entirely sure about the effects, but he somehow knew that he could cast the spell perfectly. Lurking just behind the bar, crouched awkwardly beside a large barrel of slightly stale mead was... nobody. Nobody was hiding behind the bar. Salazar reacted first, putting his hand on the head of the bartender, who maintained his glazed look and vacant expression.

"Nothing there," reported Salazar, clearly having demonstrated his remarkable knack for legilimency. "The spell didn't come from him." Salazar quickly rounded on Godric.

"Sally, why me?" asked Godric petulantly.

"You," he explained, "being the most famous dueller in the country, didn't react when we were clearly under attack." Salazar paused, thoughts precipitating in his mind. "AND DON'T CALL ME SALLY!" he roared.

"Go on then," challenged Godric, straightening up to his full height. "_Read my mind_." These words he accompanied with antagonising finger wiggling.

"Barbarian," Salazar muttered, irritated at the lack of appreciation for what was actually quite tricky to learn, and almost impossible to master. He placed his hands on Godric's head, and began to probe.

Harry watched from behind Godric's eyes as this exchange took place. As Salazar began to probe into Godric's head, Harry shrunk back. Even so, the legilimens brushed him slightly in passing, almost being alerted to his presence. Salazar almost knew that Harry had helped Godric cast the spell earlier, but he could find no evidence of it. Salazar pulled away, not entirely convinced that Godric was 'clean', but announced that fact anyway.

At this, Rowena ran up to him and hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. Helga blushed and Salazar tutted impatiently. Godric bent down and lightly planted a whiskery kiss on her forehead. She squeezed him tight, looked into his face and smiled brightly. The future looked bright for all wizardkind.

Slowly, Harry got used to the feel of Godric's mind and began to take it over. First he took the least important parts, the more automatic parts, as these coincided with his own the most. It would be days, though, before he could fully control Godric. Until then, he would continue to avoid Salazar's probes and watch the four founders at work. Hermione would be so jealous if she knew he was here. With thoughts of Hermione, he experienced a huge pang of sadness, as the Hermione he once knew was gone, lost forever. He would never see her again. She would never smile at him again in her strange way, nor would she ever chide him with that smirk that so often played around her lips. His thoughts rested also on his greatest friend, Ron, who he had discussed everything with. Ron knew everything about him, and he knew everything about Ron. He knew that Ron and Hermione would sadly never be.

"Right," interrupted Helga. "Everyone contact your helpers and get them to meet here as soon as possible."

"My people have said they can be here within an hour. They'll need time to see their families every day, but it should go quickly with the number of people I have," confirmed Godric.

"Same," chorused the other three, looking shocked at such perfect mimicry. Godric, Helga and Rowena all shouted "_Avis_!" and sent magical birds with notes to each of their recruited helpers. They were surprisingly quick, given their diminutive sizes. Rowena returned to the table and sat opposite Salazar, who had done nothing except fingering his own ornate locket. It was large, also golden, and bore an engraved letter S, encrusted with tiny emeralds.

"I wish you'd call your friends in some less unnatural way," complained Rowena, opening her own locket.

"And I wish you'd stop looking at your picture of Godric. It's just nauseating," he retorted.

"Well who do you see in the Amulet?"

"No-one! No-one! Take it away!" squealed Salazar, not wanting to be taken by the locket's magic.

"Does looking into your heart pain you so much, Sally?" inquired Rowena joyfully. Salazar grunted, not even bothering to take offence at 'Sally'.

Within ten minutes, witches and wizards began appearing with sharp cracks. The bartender continued to take no notice as the pub filled up more than it had ever done, some wizards also lighting their wands different colours. When the final few had dribbled in, Rowena addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" she called. There was only a small lull in the volume of conversation before it shot up again. Salazar snorted into his mead, earning a dark scowl from Rowena.

"QUIET!" bellowed Godric, smiling at Rowena as silence flooded the rickety room. "Let's begin the plans." The pub was enlarged on the inside in order to create a large space in the middle of the floor to lay out their plans. Each of them drew their wands and pointed them towards the floor, emitting thin snakes of blue light, which met up and cris-crossed into a 3D castle plan. Harry added his ideas to the mix, and slowly, a detailed plan of Hogwarts began to form.

"This is a magical castle," reminded Rowena, "so we don't have to have a constant layout." Harry saw the cavern taking shape below Snape's dungeon, and with a pang of sadness, quashed it.


	10. A Brave New World

Harry watched as the Hogwarts he knew formed before his eyes, adding suggestions here and there which were quickly agreed upon. There was a brief magical discussion about where to put the students, and it was decided that there should be four houses, and that there should thus be four common rooms. The common rooms were placed in a general area on the plan, but left for when the building started. The Great Hall went through a number of iterations, from round, to hexagonal, to octagonal, even resting lightly on magical pentagrams and heptagons, seven being the most magical number. Eventually, when the kitchen had been perfected, the Great Hall was planned to mimic it, not the other way round, as so many people would think.

Harry put forward the query of the names of the houses, and it was quickly agreed that they should be named after the founders, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. It was also agreed that the founders themselves should build the common rooms. Everyone had chosen a portion of the castle that they wanted to be responsible for, where they wanted to plumb their own secrets. No one person would know all of Hogwarts' secrets unless they were to discover them during their time there.

The next day dawned bright and pure as the sun rose over the large tent the helpers had erected. Inside it was even larger, as was obvious from the sheer number of people leaving the tent and heading for the ruined castle. Not everyone was going to be building the castle, as it had been decided that a few people needed to improve Hogsmeade, and some were in charge of sorting out the transport to the castle.

As soon as everyone was ready, each witch or wizard began creating their respective areas, conforming loosely to the guidelines they had set up last night. Harry found he could direct what Godric wished to create and look at what else was being created at the same time. It was such a sight to behold, with huge chunks of building floating and revolving in the sky, some with people clambering over them to fine-tune their work. Harry could see Helga developing the kitchens and casting some of her culinary magic over the area. Rowena was building the library and some specialised charms rooms on the floor below. However, Salazar was nowhere to be seen, and was probably hiding behind one of the many hills around the castle. Presumably he would be sliming around in the dungeons.

Harry, however, began to form most of what was planned to be the seventh floor. He created an office just to get the hang of the magic, then started on his cunning plan. He would build a room like the cavern. You could hide in it, and it would be inaccessible to all others. If you wanted, it could give direct access to the lower floors through portraits. It could become whatever you needed it to be. It would be any size, any shape, and it wouldn't alter the plan of the rest of the castle in any way. It would be a room of pure magic. He decided to make the headmaster's office too, as it would need a good vantage point.

After this, he relaxed, letting Godric back in control and having a look around. Godric, of course, thought he was always in control, and never once considered that Harry was inside his head. Godric began to work on the Gryffindor common room and Gryffindor tower. Harry, meanwhile, peeked at the secret passageways the three Irish wizards to his left were creating. They all seemed to have a trick step in them, and would be scattered across the whole castle. A sensible witch was creating the staff room just past them, hiding secret compartments for the teachers to find. What Harry saw, he filed away as he knew this knowledge would be useful in the future. He never guessed just how much power it gave him, for it gave him more power than a whole year at Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, the two wizard brothers in charge of transport had decided on using an uncontrolled cart. The cart would magically follow tracks to the castle, bringing the students to the castle at the start of the year. It would start at their hometown, London, and move through Oxford, Birmingham, Manchester, York and Newcastle before arriving at Hogsmeade station. This was the start of the Hogwarts express, and would become a train when they were invented. Due to this, the settlements at these locations would grow larger and more prosperous, including Hogsmeade. Soon more people would settle down in the mountainside village, shops would be set up and the village would be put on the map, were it not unplottable by muggles.

Soon, each section of the castle had been built. It had taken only a day, and the air shimmered with the high concentration of magic in the area. Everyone raised their wands and protected their sections from view, from attack and from the elements, making the outline of the sun wobble more than a fresh jelly. They all retreated into their tent, preparing for the big day ahead.

Early the next morning, the air crackled with raw magic once more. The sections were unveiled and all rose into the air, spinning as the main spell decided which way was the best to orientate each piece of this elaborate puzzle. Of course, the pieces didn't fit very well, so the spell filled in the gaps with extra corridors and extra classrooms, causing the castle to be bigger than was necessary, at least on the inside. Where pieces overlapped, they could be accessed different ways at different times. For example, the headmaster's office was located on the seventh floor, but could be accessed from the second floor or the sixth floor, depending on what time of year it was. Some staircases led to different places on a Friday, or at other quirky times. Even Harry's room could only be accessed if it was really needed.

Finally, Hogwarts was born.


	11. The Gryffindor in Pink

Over the next couple of days, the security of the castle was set up. Everybody helping encircled the castle in the wide radius that they determined to be the extent of the grounds and raised their wands almost vertically. Though no incantation was spoken, the intention was strong enough to cause each wand to issue forth a light blue beam no thicker than a quill shaft. Under the primary guidance of the founders and some of the more skilled helpers, each beam arced over the castle and rested between two people on the opposite side, forming a web-like dome. Slowly, each of the sections of air lined by beams was filled in with the same blue, completing the basic protective template, to which other charms could easily be added.

As they stepped into the dome, oddly in time with each other, the ground where the dome's edged touched began to burst up. Slowly, walls rose behind them until they were taller than the trees themselves. Where the wall coincided with the lake, it was left as a shallow ridge around the very outside, encompassing the whole body of water. Where the wall joined the forest, it circled around it. Eventually, the wall and the shield shell were complete, forming not a hemisphere but a misshapen lump as it curled around each obstacle. Rowena, at the place she designated the entrance, directed a small bolt of magic at the newly formed wall, still malleable. The wall faded in one section, to be replaced by a pair of columns, atop each of which stood a winged boar and across which a pair of gates were built.

The witches and wizards were so far from the castle that it took ten minutes to walk up to the front entrance to the castle. They superimposed their new castle onto the old ruins and made it so that muggles would never be able to see the new castle. When the ruins faded from view, Harry made Godric walk forward and push open the great oak doors, at the same time forming a large, burnished crest on both doors.

"That's nice, Godric," complimented Rowena. "You've combined each of our family crests into one school crest. That's brilliant!" She began to read the motto, translating it quickly, then giggled childishly. "Never tickle a sleeping dragon? Wise advice."

They walked into the grand Entrance Hall, marvelling at the architecture created by Morden Wright, an old friend of Godric's who greeted him warmly, apologising for not being able to do so sooner. After a quick round of applause for Morden, the other witches and wizards dispersed across the whole castle, among them Salazar heading for the dungeons, Rowena for the Northwest Tower, henceforth known as Ravenclaw tower, and Helga up a staircase beside the Grand Staircase. Helga had put the kitchens very close to the Hufflepuff common room and would be torn between which one to work on. Harry, however, was set on working on his secret room, which he called his Room of Requirement. He climbed the Grand Staircase with Rowena and parted with her close to the top.

Harry made the finishing touches to his Room, creating a portrait room as one of its layouts, where one could enter a portrait and come out somewhere else in the castle, emerging from an identical portrait. As soon as that was complete, he went to the common room and made it the way he remembered it. Letting Godric in control, a portrait was summoned from his home in Cornwall to guard the entrance to the common room. It was a rather pretty woman called Charlotte in a flowing pink dress. She was, according to his mother, one of Godric's ancestors. With a sudden flash of inspiration, Harry led Godric across the length of the seventh floor to the Ravenclaw Tower. Forgetting that the entrance was via a set of spiral stairs from the sixth floor, he doubled back.

As Harry climbed back to the level of the seventh floor he came across a simple oak door. It posed him a riddle in Rowena's singsong voice.

"_What is untouchable, but holds much power?_

_What is beautiful and fed with a flower?_

_What is as strong whether old or new?_

_What resides in all of us, even me and you?"_

Harry thought for a while, wishing Hermione was beside him. She would know what the answer was. Then he thought of Ron, who had always secretly admired Hermione's intelligence. Flower... He smiled as he remembered when Ron had brought in a flower from the grounds and given it to Hermione, who made it zoom around the classroom. Unfortunately it had landed in Harry's nose.

"Hang on..." said Harry with slow realisation. His thoughts darted between the flower and Rowena in quick succession. What answer would she think of? "That's it! Love!" Harry danced on the small landing, revelling in his sudden revelation.

"That is indeed correct. Come on in," cooed the door appreciatively. Harry pushed open the door and saw Rowena twirling around, pointing her wand in all directions and spouting nonsense words.

"The words don't matter, as long as you know what you want to do. Look – _Cruckukakuck_!" As she pointed her wand at the fireplace a fire began to crackle inside it. "You just concentrate on what you want hard enough and it pops up."

"We won't be able to teach that very well," said Harry, not feeling that he would be able to live up to something so complicated. "We'll need to teach spells with fixed incantations. Then we can more easily make magic available to the less able of us."

"I suppose we will have to do that," she replied, looking slightly crestfallen. "But we don't have to completely stick to set incantations. I mean, if the incantation to make something levitate is, say, _Leviosa_, you could specify an object within the incantation. We could start with feathers, which are going to be easy to levitate. The incantation for that could be something like _Wingardium leviosa_. But anyway, what did you want to say?"

"We need to talk about portraits."


	12. Broken Beyond Repair

Two hundred easels had been set up side by side, and two hundred different pieces of canvas were resting on them. These had been summoned as a collaborative effort, and as such varied greatly in size and quality. A large palette of paints was set down on the grass in the middle of the easels. Resting upon each of the easels was a paintbrush, the paintbrushes having the same range of sizes and qualities as the canvases. A small wizard stood behind these easels, looking towards the group, which consisted of all the other helpers.

Harry watched as the painter raised his wand, causing the paintbrushes to all stand to attention. Then, focusing on each person in turn, he flicked his wand two hundred times, each time sending the next paintbrush to the palette. The brushes began painting in turn while the painter strode along the line of easels, checking on each paintbrush and changing the pose, scenery or general mood if necessary. No-one was to disturb him, as the process took a lot of concentration for one painting, let alone two hundred. Harry was grinning at the fact that he would be in a Hogwarts portrait.

Harry had suggested to Rowena that there should be portraits lining the rooms and corridors of the castle and that they should create the first ones now. Rowena agreed, as she always did, adding that they should also summon their own portraits or tapestries to hang on the walls. At that, she summoned a portrait to her of one of her ancestors called Violet, which she hung in an antechamber off the Great Hall.

Once they were back in Ravenclaw tower, Rowena motioned Harry to sit down by patting the seat beside her. In her hand was a mug of butterbeer, a new speciality of Helga's own design. Helga had been making refreshments in the kitchens and both Rowena and Harry had come up from the antechamber via the kitchens. Harry slurped his butterbeer. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside. He shuddered with delight and grinned, dumping himself unceremoniously beside Rowena and putting his feet up on the table nearby. He watched the fire dance in the grate, marvelling at its capacity to burn and give out heat even though there were no logs on the fire. While sparks rose up the chimney, he continued to sip the butterbeer, eventually feeling more warm and cosy than he ever had done. Whenever he was upset in the future, he would think back to this moment of pure bliss and just smile.

"I need to ask you something," said Rowena suddenly, making Harry jump slightly.

"Go ahead," he replied, still in his warm reverie.

"Do you love me?" Harry was startled by this question, and reacted instinctively.

"Ergh! No way!" he replied, being only eleven while Rowena must be at least thirty. "You're way too old!" Rowena suddenly fled from the room, not looking at Harry. Harry had no idea what was going on, so continued to sip his foaming butterbeer until it was finished. This was the life. He meandered downstairs, heading towards the kitchen, when a wizard rushed past him.

"Where are you rushing off to?" asked Harry.

"Portraits," replied the wizard hurriedly. He was rather portly, wobbling slightly as he ran, and had a walrus moustache. Harry followed him out to the front of the castle, where everybody else was gathered. In front of them was a line of easels. Looking far to his left as the wizard behind the easels began to paint he saw Rowena. Her eyes were red and puffy and tears streaked her face. Presumably the wizard would make her look as she usually did. Nevertheless, Harry didn't understand why Rowena was upset. Was Salazar rude to her? Did she have an allergic reaction to butterbeer? Did she trip over down the Grand Staircase? Harry hoped against all hopes that she was alright and that nothing life-threatening had occurred. She really didn't deserve it as she was so kind and usually so bubbly.

After the portrait session, Harry went to the three founders and asked why Rowena was upset. Rowena burst into a fresh wave of tears and Helga had to take her away, probably to the kitchens. Salazar, on the other hand, confronted Harry. He put his hands on Harry's temples and probed his mind, projecting thoughts into his mind.

"I know you're there," he claimed boldly. "Godric would never have said he didn't love Rowena. Godric loved her more than life itself – that much was clear. She loved him back. At least, she did until now. You've broken her heart and she'll never be the same. She'll never smile the way she used to. She'll never dance around the room with pure happiness." Salazar sighed, as he loved her like a sister, though he may not have outwardly shown it. "I don't know who you are or where you come from, but you can't take Godric's mind. In fact, I'm surprised you managed it. No wand can channel that much power. It would break, irreparably and irrevocably. It would cease to exist. It would also backfire, causing you to cease to exist. But I don't care how you did it. All I care is that you GET OUT!"

These last two words seemed to be said with such force that Harry was thrown out of Godric's body. Both Harry and Godric lay crumpled on the grass in front of the front doors. Salazar stepped over Godric and drew his wand, pointing it at Harry. Slowly, Harry got up and, too, drew his wand. At the same time there was a bright flash of green light and a bright flash of blue light, then a thud as a body hit the floor.

Witches and wizards crowded round the body by the front doors. This incident would never be told in history, but instead a legend would be formed around it. Nobody would know of the death this day, and so the history books said this:

'Rowena Ravenclaw died in the year 1006AD from a broken heart.'


	13. The Prophet and the Platform

"Ginny Weasley! Where are you! Get in here now!" Ginny was hiding behind a large bush in the Weasleys' enormous garden, shooting sparks at the gnomes from the wand in her hand. "I hope you're not using Ron's wand!" She knew she shouldn't perform magic, but they couldn't catch her. No letters came from the ministry when Fred and George bewitched the toilet last summer.

Grudgingly, she unfolded her legs and got up, brushing past the leafy branches as she poked her head through the overhanging bush canopy. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway to the crooked house in an apron, with her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face. Ginny quickly shoved the wand into the back of her trousers and covered it with her top, walking nonchalantly into the house.

"_Accio_!" called her mother, summoning the wand. It flew up and out of the back of the neck of her top, scratching her back as it did so. She cried out with the slight pain. "Don't steal Ron's wand!" Mrs. Weasley chided, not letting any of her sympathy show on her face. Ginny was not going to be another Fred or George, and she would make sure of that.

"Why can't I go to Hogwarts too?" asked Ginny, wanting to start learning magic as soon as possible. Mrs. Weasley ignored her and ushered her to the front door, where four boys were waiting, namely Percy, Fred, George and Ron, who was easily already taller than Fred and George. Fred and George, identical except for Fred's slight bed hair, were taking it turns to poke Percy's Prefect badge. Ron, on the other hand, had turned a pale green and was shaking beside his trunk. Errol hooted at him wistfully from his cage, also feeling his trepidation.

As if by some magical feat of timing, a horn honked from outside. Mr. Weasley bustled down from upstairs, rubbing his hands and grinning wildly.

"I don't know why you had to order muggle transportation," said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head. "Won't the muggles be suspicious? Oh," she added, "here's your wand back, Ron." Ginny stuck her tongue out at the back of Mrs. Weasley's head.

"The muggles will be fine. A lot of muggles go to what they call 'broading school' and they need lots of luggage." Mr. Weasley opened the door to reveal a dusty minibus outside the front gate with its doors open. The driver stared as the family came out carrying heavy trunks and mysterious boxes. They climbed into the minibus and sat down.

"Don't let them owls out in my bus," instructed the driver. "Where to?"

"Kings Cross Station please," requested Mr. Weasley brightly.

The journey was uneventful, though the driver kept looking back at them using the mirror, seeing what they were up to. As he let them out, he stopped the parents of this odd family and told them his fare. Extortionate though it was, the mother paid it without hesitation and they entered the station, leaving the driver to drive away, shaking his head.

Ginny held on tight to her mother's hand as they made their way across the main hall of the station, which was packed with muggles. This was her first time in King's Cross and the busy crowd of muggles scared her. It was ten to eleven, so they were cutting things a bit fine. They headed straight for the ticket barrier between platforms nine and ten. Ginny was worried that she couldn't see platform nine and three-quarters. Maybe she wasn't a witch. Maybe she could only shoot sparks from Ron's wand because of the magic in the wand, not any of her own magic. As her heart began to fall, she watched Percy run up to the ticket barrier and disappear.

"I wonder if they've changed the platform again?" wondered Mr. Weasley, clearly eager to see this year's design. Sometimes they didn't change the design for years at a time. Sometimes it was different every year. At this, though, Ginny knew she wasn't alone in not seeing the platform, and Fred and George ran through after Percy. Just as Ron was about to run through in the same manner, a young boy about Ron's age came up to them. He had messy black hair and bright green eyes, and had a worried, half-desperate look on his face. He'd said that it was his first time at Hogwarts.

"The thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to–"

"How to get onto the platform?" asked Mrs. Weasley kindly. The boy nodded and she told him how to get to the platform. Ginny thought he was very polite and was glad that she came from a wizarding family. The boy ran through the barrier with his eyes closed, followed by Ron, who still looked green. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both took Ginny's hands and led her through the barrier at as brisk a walking pace as she could manage, meeting up with the boys on the other side. Fred and George had already helped the black-haired boy onto the train.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station?" asked Fred. "Do you know who he is?"

"Who?" asked Ginny with interest.

"_Harry Potter_!" the twins chorused.

"Oh mum," squealed Ginny, "can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley with a kind expression, "and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo." Ginny huffed and stamped her foot, pouting. She waited until the train had left the station, crying and running after it as it puffed out, falling back when she could no longer keep up with it. Tears still streaming down her face, she asked to go to the toilet.

"Of course, dear," smiled Mrs. Weasley. Ginny made her way over to the toilets, leaving the platform. As she did so, she noticed a boy reading the Daily Prophet on a bench just by the entrance arch. She almost did a double-take, and looked over the newspaper at his face.

"Harry?"

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**A/N: If you've made it this far, how about reviewing the story? All reviews will be greatly appreciated. I may do some canon requests in later chapters.**


	14. Seeing Double

The Harry reading the newspaper looked quite a bit older than the Harry that had just got the train, but maybe that was the light. What was more intriguing was how he had got off the train without anyone seeing. Harry looked up, puzzled at Ginny recognising him.

"How did you get off the train?" she asked. Harry's mouth dropped open as he drank in her image, eventually shaking himself and answering the question.

"Magic. I'm not actually the Harry you saw on the train. At least, not yet. No-one's supposed to know about me, not even the other Harry. I can't tell you more here." Ginny looked back, just in case her parents were looking. She knew they'd be suspicious of her talking to a complete stranger, and she knew they'd have to report this second Harry.

"Can you tell me about it somewhere quieter? How about my house?" she asked quickly.

"Ok, I'll meet you outside your house. Presumably away from your parents?" Ginny quickly nodded and ran off to the toilets. It would still be suspicious, or rather worrying, if she spent a long time in the toilets. She escaped just in the nick of time, avoiding being caught by her parents looking in Harry's direction. Harry walked off the platform just behind her, not wanting to be caught by someone who had seen the other Harry.

As she was gone, Ginny's thoughts were confused and scrambled. Why were there two Harrys? What would her parents do if they caught him? Had they caught him already? Panicking, she rushed out of the toilets and bumped into her mother.

"What's the rush, Ginny dear?" she asked kindly, drawing her into a huge hug.

"I thought you might be gone," replied Ginny, thinking quickly on the spot. "I didn't want to be left alone..." She tried to crane her neck around to see where Harry was, but he'd gone. Mutely holding onto her mother's hand, she walked out into the pale London sunshine. As they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny had a sudden sinking feeling. She hadn't told Harry where she lived! A solitary tear rolled down her face as she stepped into the emerald-green fire and called, "The Burrow!"

It was another slightly chilly day, but the sun was out again, contrary to the muggle weather forecast. Mr. Weasley had managed to get a television set working in his shed and marvelled at how they could predict the weather without magic until he realised that they had already got it wrong. Ginny, however, was sitting by the large green pond in the garden of the burrow. She was holding a gnome by the feet, dipping the top of its head into the still water. There was a large rock in the middle of the pond with a small area poking just above the smooth surface of the water where she lightly placed the disgruntled gnome. As she watched it running around the edge of the rock, figuring out how to get off, there was a blue flash and the loud cracking of branches as something landed in a nearby rhododendron.

"Argh! Gotta sort out that landing!"

"And the flash," said Ginny, staring at the figure in the bush. They both stared at each other, mostly in fright, until a small splash snapped them out of their momentary reverie. The gnome had tried to jump to the nearby bank, but had landed in the water, barely a few centimetres from the rock. Instead of swimming to the bank, it panicked and flailed its way back onto the rock, shaking itself as it crawled out of the water. "How did you know where I lived?" she asked.

"I've learned a lot of things that the other Harry will come to know," explained Harry, deliberately trying to sound mysterious. He took his wand out and wordlessly levitated the gnome onto the bank.

"Aren't you too young to be doing magic outside of school?" asked Ginny cheekily, sticking her tongue out at Harry.

"Technically I can't exist, so I don't have the charm that other people do. I don't even exist in my own world."

"How can you not exist in your own world? And what do you mean 'own world'?" Harry explained to Ginny how he didn't exist and where he came from, Ginny drinking in the story as though it were an exciting fairy tale. She oohed, ahhed and gasped in all the right places and was the audience every storyteller wished for. "It's not a very believable story," she said when he was finished. "What proof do you have?"

"How do you think I was sitting, watching myself get on the Hogwarts Express? Ron's probably sitting with me in Potions right now."

"Well then, let's ask him," said Ginny, standing up. "Come on." She led him through the garden and up to the back door, taking a route through the bushes so as to hide Harry from the back windows in case her mother was looking through them. He waited under the largest of the windows, next to the back door, while Ginny went inside to check the area. "She's out front, feeding the chickens," she said, making Harry jump. She'd crept so quietly up to him that he hadn't noticed her. Ginny led him through the kitchen and up the stairs. They stopped on the third landing, where Ginny opened a door and quickly pushed him in, looking out of the window to check that her mother was still spreading chicken feed across the yard. "Phew, she's still out there. Now let's send that letter."

"But Ginny, this is your room," said Harry, who was now beginning to turn pink.

"Oh, shush!" she hissed, jumping onto her bed and sitting cross-legged. She pulled some parchment and a quill over to her and began to write with guidance from Harry.

A couple of days later, during which Harry had spent most of the time camped in an almost inaccessible area of the garden, Ron's reply barely made it into the house. Ginny rushed to bring it to Harry and they both read it.

'_Dear Gin,_

_Thanks for the letter. I'm good, thanks, but Snape's a right git. He's already taken twenty points from us. Never cross him if you can._

_I'm going to give up potions as soon as possible. Don't tell mum, though._

_I don't know why you want to know about Harry, but yes, he is in all of my classes, as a Gryffindor. He hasn't not shown up for any classes, as if he would._

_Say hi to mum and dad for me._

_Love you loads,_

_Ron_'


	15. Tentaculum Inflammare

As Ginny finished reading the letter, she walked to the window, looking out at the fields beyond the garden and thinking over the enigma now sitting on the end of her bed.

"So I guess there really are two of you. Why are you here?" she asked, the sun falling across her face as a cloud moved across the sky.

"There are some things I have to change," replied Harry, looking away from the letter. I can see them coming up in the future, getting clearer as my other self lives out his life. Sometimes I'll have to leave suddenly for Hogwarts. Sometimes I'll have to disappear for a week at a time. You can see I'm older than the other Harry is. I've been through a term at Hogwarts, a few weeks in the tenth century and at least a few months between now and then."

"What did you do in all those months? Wasn't it lonely?" wondered Ginny as she turned from the window, her hair looking as though it was on fire in the sun.

"First, I had to revisit the tenth century," began Harry, reaching into his pocket.

"Ginny!" called a voice from downstairs. "I hope you've tidied up your room! I'm coming up to have a look! Then you can make a start on the cakes for when your father gets home!" The stairs creaked as Mrs. Weasley began to climb the stairs. Ginny and Harry both instinctively looked down at the floor, seeing that it was strewn with discarded items of clothing and various doodles on scraps of parchment. Here and there floated pages of an unfinished but high quality novel. Harry waved his wand, arranging the mess into neat piles in the corner behind the door before Mrs. Weasley could burst in. There was a slight crash as she pushed open the door with a tough more vigour than was necessary and Ginny spun round.

"Ah, that's lovely, Ginny. Well done! You can fly round the orchard this afternoon if you want. I haven't seen you fly in ages." Ginny looked back at Harry, but he had already gone. She trudged downstairs after her mother and made some cauldron cakes. Then she went with her mother to the orchard, unusually quiet as her mind was on Harry and when he would come back, if at all. Flying on the old family Cleansweep and catching apples Mrs. Weasley was throwing at her, she looked around for the blue flash that would accompany Harry's next appearance. There wasn't much chance for looking out, though, as whenever she got too high Mrs. Weasley would throw an apple close to the ground to get her to come back down to a reasonable height. It wouldn't do to let muggles see a young girl in the air, and on a broomstick no less. No, that would most certainly not do.

Meanwhile, Harry was sitting behind the Hog's Head with his back to the wall, cradling his head in his hands. His heart was beating so fast. He'd almost got caught. If he got caught, he'd never be able to save this world from Voldemort, which was what Riddle was apparently calling himself these days, and he'd never be able to see Ginny again. Hang on, why would that matter? Harry shook his head, letting motes of dust fall in the sunlight which silhouetted the castle in the distance.

Harry opened the door to the tumbledown outhouse at the back of the Hog's Head and pushed one of the great slabs that made up the walls, revealing a narrow tunnel. He squeezed himself through the tight entrance as he had done on numerous such occasions, and jumped into the small cart waiting for him. This was the same cart that was the original Hogwarts Express and lay forgotten in the remains of the old track, so easily replaced by muggle rails. Harry stroked the edge of the cart fondly as he hurtled towards the castle, remembering the times they had shared.

The tracks came to an end at a pile of rubble. The cart had always driven right into the castle, but this had been deemed unsafe, and so the tunnel was collapsed and a large mirror placed in front of it. Harry had already bewitched the rubble to move aside at the password, which he promptly gave, enabling him to access the castle with ease. He was on the fourth floor and had time to spare before the slight nudge that he needed to give to events, so headed right towards the set of stairs that would lead him directly to the seventh floor.

"_Postulatum_," Harry muttered, revealing the door to the Room of requirement immediately. He smiled as he entered the small round room he was so familiar with. The walls were covered with portraits and there were a number of items of comfortable furniture on the floor, plus a desk for writing on. After a quick nap, he opened the portrait containing a lady named Violet, which took him to an antechamber off the Great Hall.

Quickly he ran around to the greenhouses, careful not to be seen by anyone, especially not anyone in Greenhouse One. He settled down by one of the open windows, listening to the lesson that Professor Sprout was giving. As he watched, the venomous tentacula was creeping along the ground towards the open window. It reached in and suddenly lunged for Neville, a rather nervous fellow at the back of the crowd.

"_Tentaculum inflammare_," Harry muttered, saving Neville for the second time this year. He knew exactly how much time he had until he was next needed, and should really stay at Hogwarts, not yet having got the hang of his spell. But there was somewhere he couldn't tear himself away from.

Ginny was looking out of the window again, as she often did when thinking. She stared at the pond, where the gnome had rounded up his friends to try and pull the rock out of the water. They lassoed the rock with a rope woven from grass and began to pull, as though in a tug-of-war with the rock as the opposing team. As the rope snapped, sending the gnomes tumbling into the long grass beneath the rhododendron, a blue flash appeared in the cherry tree in the corner of the garden.

Ginny offered her hand to the boy in the tree, with a scratched face and arms. Harry took it and eventually extricated himself from its gnarled branches. Jumping down, he began to take something out of his pocket.

"I just need to ask you one thing before I go back," he explained, showing her a picture inside a locket. "Who's in the picture?"

"You are. Why?"


	16. Towers and Darkness Descending

Harry had returned to Hogwarts, growing exasperated with the enchantments that prevented any magical transportation into the grounds. He knew it was directed at him as Salazar had woven the spell over the castle after Rowena had died, attempting to prevent Harry from coming back. That didn't hinder him much, as he came back the next week, just before the funeral. Harry had noticed the locket that she was wearing at that she kept on looking at him, or rather Godric, when she had opened it. It was clearly the Amulet.

Harry was curious to see who the shadow in the locket was. The curiosity welled up in him like water in a spring, and spilled over as he could contain it no more. He just had to see who it was. Rowena's body was laid on an altar in a pavilion by the base of Ravenclaw Tower. Harry snuck around the wall and into the back of the pavilion, avoiding the two burly wizards guarding the entrance. They weren't too bright, leaving the back of the pavilion wide open. Harry almost chuckled at their resemblance to Crabbe and Goyle, deciding not to eliminate the cronies' possible ancestors. Their unthinking obedience might be useful.

As he crept into the pavilion, his eyes rested on Rowena. Her body was laid out flat and dressed in a flowing lilac dress, formed of countless floaty layers of silk. Her headdress still adorned her head and the locket still graced her pale neck. He reached out to the locket with both hands, preparing to slip it off without messing up her hair. It was almost as though she could have opened her eyes and suddenly sat up, yawning. It was for this reason that Harry jumped, very almost yelping, when he heard a rustling of material behind him. He turned, gazing into the eyes of an equally shocked young girl.

The girl had long black hair and almost flawless features. It was almost as if Rowena herself from fifteen years ago had walked into the pavilion. Clearly she wasn't going to be happy when she found out what he was doing. He was caught red-handed. But hang on. She had also come through the rear of the pavilion and not past the guard Goyles. She was in here for some misdemeanour in the same way that he was.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, folding her arms as she knew she had the upper hand. "My name is Helena and this is my mother."

"I thought she wasn't married," mused Harry, sensing an embarrassing truth and mimicking the folding of Helena's arms.

"Ok, let's drop this," conceded Helena. "Don't tell anyone that she wasn't married when she gave birth to me. Now, why are you trying to steal her necklace?"

"Why are you in here?" countered Harry.

"Fine. I won't tell if you won't..."

"Deal." Harry took the locket and Helena took the headdress. They rearranged the body to make her look more peaceful, brushing stray hairs from her face and clothes. Quickly, as they had heard voices from the front of the pavilion, the two thieves edged out of the back of the pavilion and around the wall. They ran through some low bushes to the cover of a nearby hill, where they had a good vantage point over the hubbub that was now forming outside the pavilion.

Salazar took out his wand and waved it at the pavilion, causing it to melt into nonexistence. Rowena was revealed on the altar, as pure and pristine as ever she had been. He stood behind her, facing the milling crowd, and conjured up a myriad wooden chairs in neat rows. One by one, the crowd filed into the rows and deposited themselves onto the roughly hewn chairs. Black drapes covered each of the chairs as their occupants sat down, both cushioning the occupant and creating a sombre mood at the same time. Salazar looked down at Rowena, who had always been like a sister to him. He noticed that she was missing something, and, thinking, realised that somebody had taken her jewellery. Casting a spell which enveloped the body in a light turquoise hue, a flash of anger crossed his face, quickly replaced by dark rage.

"HELENA!" he shouted in a magically enlarged voice. "How dare you desecrate your mother's body! I will find you and take back what is rightfully hers! Wherever you go, I will find you! There is nowhere in this country you can hide!" He bent his head towards a posh-looking wizard next to him and muttered, "I want you to go after her. I know you love her and I know you care for her so much. I know you can find her, wherever she may be. Just get the diadem and locket back and you can have her."

"How did he not detect you?" asked Helena, curious as to how Salazar's spell had failed and oblivious to what he had muttered to the baron beside him.

"I don't exist," said Harry in a deliberately mind-boggling way.

"Well," worried Helena, "whatever it is, I have to get out of the country. Is there anywhere you can suggest?"

"How about Albania?" Harry suggested, motioning that they should continue to watch the ceremony playing out before them. Helena settled in beside him, shuffling so that she could get comfortable. Helga had pulled Salazar away, sitting him down so that she could calm him, while Godric had taken Salazar's place.

"I know I have not been myself lately. I have apparently been bewitched, but this was not the first time. I have been bewitched by Rowena since the first time I saw her. I have always loved her, but never got the chance to tell her so. When I was with her, it was as though the world had as many flaws as her beauty – absolutely none. I commit this perfect person to her early grave. She was not meant to die, but nor did we deserve for her to grace this world. Requiescat in pace." Godric waved his wand and the base of Ravenclaw tower opened up, revealing the room within. The altar was transported into the base and the walls sealed over it. With a final salute, each witch and wizard in the crowd pointed their wands at the tower, and slowly it began to move. The tower descended so that it moved a floor lower than it had been, hiding Rowena's grave under the ground and bringing the entrance to the common room down to the fifth floor with it.

A solitary tear marked the corner of Harry's eye, and tears streamed freely down Helena's face. Harry turned and sat up, holding Rowena's locket in his hands. He opened the doors and looked at the picture. The shadow was still there.


	17. Double Trouble

Harry fondly remembered the quick hug he had just given Ginny, after which he had disappeared with the usual blue flash. Ginny noted with a smile that it was smaller than the first time she had seen it. She sighed, and turned to the leaves strewn on the grass, and headed for the shed where she would find a rake. She began to rake up the leaves sadly, piling them up as Mrs. Weasley looked interestedly out of the window. Ginny almost never did her chores without being nagged. While she piled the leaves up onto the compost heap at the side of the house, Harry was already in the cart, heading back to the tunnel behind the mirror on the fourth floor.

Harry's face and arms were still scratched as he hurried down to the third floor, heading for the Charms corridor. As he approached he could hear tiny Professor Flitwick's squeaks of protest from inside the slightly ajar door.

"Mister Malfoy, that is not what I asked you to do with your feather. Put it out this instant. Five points from Slytherin." The bell rang, causing the Professor to shout over the noise of the Slytherins packing away. "I want five inches of parchment on the origins, abilities and limitations of the Leviosa spell, in for Thursday. No excuses!" The Slytherins filed out and past Harry, Malfoy among them. As he passed Harry, he looked back, suddenly noticing him.

"Hey Potter," he called with a sneer of contempt on his face, "had a run in with a cat? Or did Granger just attack you? Did you get scared of the little fight?"

"I'd take you on any day, Malfoy," said Harry, walking away and not looking back. "Just try me." Harry wished he could have seen Malfoy's face as he walked away unfazed. He turned the corner and headed up a narrow, dimly-lit stone staircase hidden behind a tapestry of a young Ravenclaw. His mind rested on the past, making him wish that he could relive his most precious moments, but he knew that he couldn't, as he changed the world by just being there. If only the spell was like a time-turner, then he could go to before a change he made. But still, he could make the most of the here and now.

As he reached the library, he conjured up Riddle's book, opening it to the next page. There were parts of it he didn't understand, and he had decided that Hermione's way of finding things out was probably the best way to do things. Using the book as a guide, he found the section that he needed and withdrew a dusty tome from one of the shelves.

"I think that magic's a bit beyond you," commented the librarian, Madam Pince, as she tottered past carrying a stack of books in one cradled arm and controlling another floating stack with her wand in the other. As the top book toppled and fell from the stack she was carrying, Harry lazily waved his wand, returning it to the top of the pile. Madam Pince just stared in wonder before tottering off again. A first year shouldn't be able to cast non-verbal spells.

Opening the heavy, leather-bound book to the right page, Harry began to read the cursive script. It talked of the sensation of egg running down the body as you melted into the surroundings. The cold feeling is generated as the target of the spell takes on the temperature of the surrounding air in an instant, and the warm feeling when it is lifted. You cannot be detected by sight or heat without one of the many revealing charms. This was perfect for Harry, though, as Madam Pince had said, a bit advanced. He filed the knowledge away to use later when he was more skilled and flicked back through the book, ending up looking at a version of the supersensory charm. This was much simpler, as it only involved enhancing the hearing capacity of the caster. It took barely ten minutes to learn every intricate detail of the spell, including its brief history. Harry's timing was such that the bell rang almost as he put the book back onto the shelf. Dinner time was starting, and everybody would be in the Great Hall. It would be a perfect chance to try out the new spell he had learned.

Harry jogged along the rows of bookshelves, earning a hiss from madam Pince as he passed, and down the corridors to the Grand Staircase. He climbed down to the first floor, then ran down the marble staircase to the entrance hall, barely touching the steps as he almost glided down. He reached out, grasping the handles of the huge doors to the Great Hall. He tensed his muscles, preparing to wrench them open, when he remembered what would happen if the other Harry saw him. This pause was long enough for three raised voices to filter down from the marble staircase. There were two male voices and a female one, and Harry recognised all three. Harry Ron and Hermione were walking down, late to dinner.

Panicking, Harry burst through the doors behind him, out into the castle grounds. He shivered as the cold hit him unexpectedly, turning his expelled breath into clouds of vapour. Just in the nick of time, he closed the doors, secluding himself under the cloudless sky. Bathed in the milky glow of the full moon, Harry snuck around to the windows of the Great Hall. Looking into the Hall, he noticed something that he never would have noticed before. Each of the school houses looked very much like their respective founders. There were sly-looking Slytherins, brave, stoic-looking Gryffindors, exceptionally good-looking Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, who just looked happy to be there. As he looked on, his eye was drawn to movement at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was standing up and walking towards the Gryffindor table, towards the other Harry. Harry cast his spell to hear the exchange, which was difficult over the general hubbub of the room.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?" He was clearly talking about Harry's amazing stunt on his broomstick, which had recently earned him the position of seeker on the house Quidditch team. "I'd take you on any time on my own," he claimed, mimicking the words of the Harry outside the hall. "Tonight if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only." What mess had Harry got his other self into?

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**A/N: Perhaps you might like to review the story now you've got this far? Well, it was worth a try ;) Tomorrow I'll be starting on my first sideline chapter - the story of Peeves. If you want to request other sideline stories, I'd be happy to oblige. Tune in to Potterwatch tomorrow, when the password will be 'Horntail'. Goodbye for now!**


	18. Peeves the Poltergeist

Harry rushed back to the Charms corridor, careful to avoid any latecomers wending their way through the labyrinth of corridors, staircases and secret passages to the Great Hall for dinner. As the third couple passed him on the second floor, where had had just ducked behind a particularly large suit of armour, he began to grow annoyed at the number of them. Snape followed just behind them, pushing between them and docking the houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff ten points each for loitering and public displays of affection. Harry gripped his wand so tight that his knuckles turned white, outraged at Snape's unnecessary evil.

As soon as the three had passed, Harry climbed the last set of stairs to the Charms corridor, ducking into an empty classroom. Empty was an optimistic description in this case, as Peeves, the castle poltergeist, was taking the opportunity to draw explicit pictures and write offensive messages on the blackboard. As Harry shut the door, Peeves through the chalk into the bin with a resounding clang and swooped over towards the intruder.

"Why, it's Potty wee Potter! Defeated the Dark lord recently, Potter? Been kissing Granger in the corridors? Peeves sees everything, he does!" Peeves cackled.

"No, Peeves. The time has come for you to repay your debt." This debt dated from hundreds of years ago, almost fifty years after Hogwarts had been founded.

The Golden Age of Hogwarts was over. The founders were long dead, but their legacy lived on. Their portraits hung amongst all the others in the corridors as they continued their vigil over the castle. On their expeditions around the castle as portraits, they often walked into the few paintings high up in the Great Hall. At the very head of the Great Hall was a very large chair facing the four house tables. In that chair sat the Headmaster as ruler of the school. What he said went, and nobody crossed him for fear of retribution. His name was Abraxas Filch.

Every year this dictatorial Headmaster had a new lickspittle at his side, which he often chose from the students. He usually preferred to have one of the Ravenclaws as they were easier on the eye, but this year he had chosen one of the Gryffindors. This Gryffindor used to be one of the happiest people in the school, always the life and soul of any occasion, but since he had become the Headmaster's 'assistant' a smile had never again crossed his face. The Headmaster treated him as though he were a jester, serving the King of this castle, and called him Peeves, as he always did each year.

The name Peeves came from the Headmaster's tradition of taking his anger out on his new plaything. Every time something annoyed him, especially one of his pet peeves, he thrashed the poor boy or girl until he felt mollified. Often the pain would be so great that they would almost cry out, but they knew that more would come their way if they did. Peeves' jaw stiffened as he thought about his last thrashing, confident that he would receive another before the week was up.

Harry had chosen this rough time to return to Hogwarts, having just come from Rowena's funeral fifty years earlier. Strolling through the corridors where Arithmancy would be taught in future, he came across a glum-looking boy hurrying along with a purpose. Tears rolled down his face, though he was stoic and made no noise to indicate his sadness.

"Are you ok?" asked Harry with grave concern in his voice.

"Yes," replied the boy, his voice barely a croak as he prevented body-racking sobs from escaping his lips. "I'm Peeves, the Headmaster's servant this year. Can I help you?"

"The Headmaster has a servant? That hardly seems fair on you."

"Oh, it isn't," gushed the boy, now confident that his words would not be reported to his master. "It's a horrible job. I get thrashed nearly every other day for the wrongdoings of everyone else. I never thought this would happen when I applied for a place here. I'm never going to catch up with the rest of my year, either. Why can't I just crawl into a hole somewhere and die?"

"Why do you all put up with it?" questioned Harry, sure that someone would have protested at this already.

"The last person who complained was sent on an errand to the dungeons a little while ago. We haven't seen him since. He was planning vengeance on my master for everything he had done to this school. My master soon got wind of this, and he wasn't best pleased, if you catch my drift, sir."

"How about we plan a bit of vengeance of our own? This isn't how Hogwarts should be. The Headmaster is supposed to take care of all the students and protect them from such evils." Peeves agreed to this, saying that he wanted nothing more than a new Headmaster. Harry walked along the corridors with him as he finished his errand for the dictator, who subsequently thrashed him for being late. Harry was waiting as he hobbled out of the Great Hall, heading for the kitchens to make his master's lunch. "Why not put something in the lunch?" suggested Harry.

"Yes!" exclaimed the newly-rebellious Peeves. "I can put something in that'll make his ears turn into daffodils, his nose turn into a shoe and his hair turn into straw." They entered the kitchens by tickling the giant green pear in the painting to find a small gathering of students and house-elves. Each wore a glum look as they toiled over their meals without magic. Peeves set to work on his concoction at the nearest available cooking surface and created a masterpiece.

The time of reckoning came, and the Headmaster ate the lunch, merely grunting when he saw the crafted beauty of the food. As predicted, his ears, nose and hair slowly transformed. Everybody in the room looked on in horror as the man ate, not realising what had happened.

"I owe you at least three favours," said Peeves to Harry, just before the Headmaster noticed his reflection in the polished steel of a nearby suit of armour. Enraged, he immediately sentenced Peeves to death by decapitation. The teachers gasped. The students serving the staff gasped. Even the Headmaster's cronies gasped. Their confidence in him as a leader was sorely shaken, but they were too afraid to speak up about it. Peeves was marched out into the grounds by the two surliest cronies, who were flanked by a contingent of senior professors. Peeves' life ended on that overcast day.

From the newly-deceased body, there floated an almost exact replica of that same body. It was almost solid, but was clearly incorporeal. Peeves owed Harry, and so had unfinished business. He owed him his life, or at least his existence, but he forgot Harry as soon as he saw the Headmaster, standing there in shock. Peeves immediately swooped down upon him, yelling obscenities, chasing the Headmaster away and ending his reign of terror.

"I'll get you, Filch, and all your family! I'll never let them go! Never!"


	19. Hallowe'en

Peeves loved being at Hogwarts, terrorising both staff and students in his centuries of vengeance. He knew he would never get tired of it, so never wanted to leave, to be banished to the sea of eternal silence. He'd teetered on the verge of the precipice that held that endless ocean, and so knew exactly what it held for him. After a hundred years, surely the boy who he owed had died, and surely he should have moved on to that netherworld. But to Peeves' constant surprise, he remained in the castle. Now, here in front of him stood the very same boy who he owed, not dead, nor aged at all over the many centuries. He knew that Potter boy had reminded him of someone.

"No, sir! I don't want to go! I want to stay! Don't ask it of me, sir!"

"Don't call me sir, Peeves," said Harry kindly. "There are two Harrys in this school, one of which can never know about this. Tonight, one will go to the trophy room to duel Draco Malfoy. I need you to help him in any way you can."

"How are you still alive, anyway?" asked Peeves petulantly. "Aha! You're a time traveller! Go back in time and require me to stay with the castle forever."

"I can't do that, Peeves. I can only go forwards as I can't go back to before a change I've made. Just help the other Harry."

That night, Harry appeared in the trophy room, searching for Malfoy, but to no avail. He was instead chased down various corridors by Filch, towards the Charms corridor, where Peeves had stayed, moping. Peeves was shaken out of his reverie by heavy, hurried footsteps approaching the classroom. He immediately swwoped out through the keyhole to see what was going on, rattling the doorknob as he went. He squealed with delight when he saw that Harry hadn't been caught yet, but suddenly began to get back at him.

"Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," pleaded Hermione, the only girl of the four before him.

"Should tell Filch, I should," cackled the poltergeist wickedly, toying with the students.

"Get out of the way!" snapped the red-headed one angrily, attempting to push Peeves rudely out of the way. That was the last straw.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" bellowed Peeves. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!" The four of them ran through a nearby door, struggling as they unlocked it, as footsteps and muttering approached them. As they shut the door, Argus Filch, the squib caretaker at Hogwarts, came running through a tapestry, skidding to a halt in front of Peeves. Filch demanded to be told where the students were hiding.

"Shan't say nothing of you don't say please," wheedled Peeves in a deliberately annoying singsong voice.

"Alright then," conceded Filch, "_please_." As Filch said this, Peeves noticed movement at the end of the corridor. From over the shoulder of one of the suits of armour there popped a head with jet black hair. It pointed threateningly at Peeves, and he felt oddly ashamed. He would put right what he had done. He owed this boy.

"NOTHING!" he yelled at Filch. "Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" He swooped away, leaving Filch to curse him in the middle of the corridor. The old caretaker took a cursory glance in one of the classrooms, then bustled off back to his patrol route.

As Harry continued to watch, the four children burst out of the door at the end of the corridor and ran towards him. As they passed where he had secreted himself he heard them muttering something about a giant three-headed dog. Somehow, he had got them into trouble... Again!

Harry vowed to be more careful and to only save the other Harry when he needed it. Retreating back into Riddle's spellbook, he talked it over with the young boy, who had seen almost the entire timespan of the world from these very pages. The two of them agreed on a plan, and Riddle began to guide Harry to the times where he was needed most. He taught Harry to feel them as he focused on the time he wanted to reach. Among his many visits to the Burrow, Harry saved his alternative self many times before the summer.

It was a dark and gloomy night. Black clouds rolled across the twilit sky, flashing with lighting and roaring with thunder as they went. Rain hammered down on trees and buildings alike, each leaf bending under the sheer force of the raindrops. They beat out a rhythm on the windows of the Great Hall as the students began their feast. The four tables were laden with pumpkins and thousands of live bats swarmed around and above the tables, coalescing in dark clouds. Most of the teachers sat at the staff table, tucking into jacket potatoes and pumpkin pies at the same time. Dumbledore was spreading pumpkin on his potato, smiling as he did so.

Harry peered through a crack in the doors to the Great Hall, envious of the hundreds of students eating pumpkin-related food. He would get food from the friendly house-elves in the kitchens later, but he wished that he could fit in for once. It was so hard and so lonely with the responsibility and restrictions he had on him. He turned away from the door and traipsed back along the corridors, heading toward the stairs that would take him to the kitchens.

As a frightened Professor Quirrel rushed past, Harry felt a sudden surge, as though something hated him with so much power that it became a tangible force. His scar burst open with pain, and he held onto the flutings of a nearby column to steady himself, resting his head against the cold stone wall to soothe his burning scar. From his right, the direction in which he was heading, there came a deep grunting. Harry looked up, still rubbing his scar. Something huge was coming towards him. It was twelve feet tall and had a large, lumpy grey body. Its tiny head sported long ears and its short legs were as thick as tree trunks. Harry watched as it dragged its huge club behind it. As the heaving stench hit Harry's nose like a mallet to the fingers, there was no mistaking this smell. It was the smell of a troll.


	20. Quidditch

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to our resident God of Numbers, whose birthday was recently celebrated. I hope he likes this present.

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Harry cast a conjunctivitis curse at the troll, dazing it and making it have bleary eyes. It wandered past Harry, confused and oblivious to his presence. As footsteps were heard rushing in his direction, he disappeared in a much dimmer flash of blue light, leaving the troll and running people to approach the girls' toilets on this floor.

Harry reappeared a few days later, of course in the same place, and it was a Saturday. Thankfully, no-one was around to see his rematerialisation as everyone was at breakfast early, keen to get a good seat at the upcoming Quidditch match. Gryffindor were facing Slytherin in what was the first match of the season, and everyone knew of the bitter rivalry between the two houses, especially seeing as the Slytherins had won the Quidditch Cup for the past seven years and the House Cup for the past six years. It was never a surprise that Quidditch Cup winners were almost always House cup winners due to the sheer number of points available from matches.

Harry remembered with a smile, as he walked through the entrance hall, the origins of Quidditch. He had been there with a group of people he had once called his friends, and they all had broomsticks with them. Everyone knew about Sweden's annual broom race from its wide coverage in what was then known as the Weekly Prophet. Even Hogwarts had built a large racecourse spanning the grounds and the forest and held an inter-house broom racing championship. The races were said to involve a lot of skill and to go through some of the more dangerous areas of the Hogwarts grounds, and had been established a few years after the school's founding.

The small group of friends had managed to acquire a rough leather ball and had come up with a simple game. Whichever team put the ball in the goal the most times would win – it was easy enough for anyone to understand. All they needed was a flat place to play where they wouldn't get hurt so much if they fell off. Edward, a West Country boy, had told them of a place he knew, very close to his home. Agreeing that this was a superb place to play, they all headed to Queerditch Marsh, which oozed slowly into the River Severn.

They played every day for weeks and soon Harry began to demonstrate remarkable skill on a broom. The ball was passed back and forth between the players, not wanting to be nobbled by the other team. Thus, the ball often fell to the ground or was thrown outside of their makeshift pitch. One time Harry had thrown it into the nearby garden of a witch, and so was kindly delegated as the person to fetch the ball. He hopped off his broom and jogged to the garden fence, vaulting merrily over the crude, wooden, cross-linked stakes.

The crooked old witch came out of her house just as he was reaching for the ball. He looked up, still bent towards the ball, to find a bony arm pointing a gnarled wand at him. He tried to dive out of the way, but the curse hit his legs with surprising accuracy. At the same time as he felt the pain in his knees, the woman's voice carried to him, crying "_genuflectus_!" She hobbled over to the ball and took it inside, cackling as she did so.

Two of Harry's friends rushed over to where he lay and carried him back to Edward's house, where Edward's mother checked him over. His knees had been turned back to front, so she spent a few days turning them back.

"If I was there I could have used a counter-curse," she muttered sadly as she fed him a crude version of Skele-Gro and other potions, waving her wand over him and murmuring as she did so.

"Can you teach me how to do a counter-curse?" asked Harry. "I don't want to be cursed like that again.

"Of course I can. We have a few days." For those next few days, Harry learned how to perform a counter-curse in between the bouts of stabbing pain in his legs. He was eventually ready to play the broom game again, and headed outside. While he had been healing, a beefy Scottish warlock had seen his group of friends playing and had decided to test out an element of his favourite game, Creaothceann, on the group. He had bewitched a couple of large rocks to fly around and attempt to knock people off their brooms. Harry joined in with the game, much to the delight of both his team and the small gathering watching the game.

As Harry headed towards the Quidditch pitch, he heard a small stampede of footsteps behind him as a group of Hufflepuffs began to charge towards the pitch to get good seats. Harry charged ahead of them and sat directly opposite them in order to avoid suspicion. As more people filed into the stands, Harry ducked down and climbed into the rafters below the seating so that nobody would spot him, especially the other Harry.

The match started normally, with the captains crushing each others' hands before the balls were released. The other Harry stayed high up over the other players, staying out of the way before he caught sight of the Snitch. As a bludger spun past his ear, his broom began to sway and buck like an angry bull. The Harry under the stands could feel a wave of hatred, along with a powerful curse, emanating from the stands, directed at the broom.

It was so powerful that Harry doubted that his counter-curse could even make a tiny impact on the effects of the curse, but he began to mutter it anyway, not taking his eyes off the broom. As Harry began to mutter even more fervently and desperately, another voice seemed to join his, also directed against the curse. Together their two voices seemed to harmonise, blocking much of the curse's power, but still it wasn't enough.

Suddenly, the curse and other counter-curse stopped, almost taking him off-balance. He steadied the broom, allowing the other Harry to remount. That Harry swung his leg over the broom and continued his circling high over the pitch. Suddenly, he dived for the ground, accelerating for the fifty-foot drop. Was the broom still cursed? Did the counter-curse fail? The Harry on the broom pulled up just before he hit the ground and rolled onto the pitch, clutching his hands to his mouth. He coughed, and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.


	21. The Dragon in the Night

Harry waited until the Quidditch pitch had emptied before coming out of his cramped hiding place beneath the seats. The last group of stragglers had finally walked away, swaying and singing as though they were drunk. Fred and George were among that group, along with the commentator, Lee Jordan. He headed back to Hogsmeade through the main gates, hoping that nobody was yet guarding that entrance. As soon as he was out of the castle grounds, he disappeared.

Harry had an idea, and to fulfil it he needed only a quick glimpse of Ginny. She, however, spotted him immediately, as she constantly looked out for him. Mrs. Weasley wasn't going to complain as her work had been a lot less stressful this year, with Ginny being so well-behaved. Harry snuck through the Burrow, avoiding Mrs. Weasley's eye as she sat in the front room, knitting. At the moment she was knitting a maroon jumper, and she had jumpers with the letters F and G already on a pile in front of her. As he climbed swiftly on the stairs, he stepped on a particularly loose floorboard, which creaked slightly.

"Where are you going, Ginny dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, thankfully not looking round at the noise.

"I was just coming down to feed the chickens," called a voice just above Harry. He had to keep himself from yelping with surprise, and clutched at his now furiously beating heart.

"Oh good," cooed Mrs. Weasley. "Don't feed them too much." Ginny walked down the stairs and out of the front door, ruffling Harry's hair as she went. Harry returned to climbing up the stairs, careful to test his weight on each floorboard before committing. He painstakingly reached the landing and reached up to the handle of Ginny's door. As he turned it, he heard Mrs. Weasley get up from the wicker chair she was in and begin to climb the stairs. Harry quickly squeezed through the door and pushed it to, worried that Mrs. Weasley would hear the click as the door closed. He stood behind the door with his back to the wall, the sound of breathing loud in his ears.

Ginny returned a few minutes later, hugging her mum on the way up to her room. She closed the door quietly and looked around.

"Harry?"

"Here," he replied, touching her shoulder lightly. She gave a yelp of surprise and cuffed him round the head. "What now, Harry?"

"Nothing. I just needed to see you. It's a surprise," Harry grinned. Ginny grinned back. "I just need to see you." Harry gazed at her, his plan forming as he remembered every detail. He thanked her, and told her that he'd be back soon to deliver her birthday present early. She beamed her Harry, and clapped her hands like a dizzy schoolgirl.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry asked the house-elves in the kitchens to get him two large pieces of canvas and a set of oil-based paints. It was just after breakfast and all of the students in the castle were in their lessons, concentrating again after the Christmas holidays, which Harry had missed. Ginny had gone to Romania to visit her brother with her parents. A small contingent of house-elves returned with exactly what he had requested, and Harry beamed. As they helped him take it all up to the top of the very tallest tower, he thanked them and wished them a good day.

Harry set up the canvasses and paints just behind the door back down to the castle, so that nobody would see him with a cursory glance out. He made himself comfortable and began to paint under the clear winter sky in the best natural light any artist could hope for. The house-elves kindly visited him once in a while to give him hot chocolate, to ward against the cold of the crisp winter air. At night, he would just curl up under the night sky, looking up at the glimmering stars above him with not a cloud in sight.

In the daytime, Harry began to paint. It was a skill he had learned long ago, though it didn't seem so long to him. As the days and weeks passed, a beautiful figure began to emerge from the canvas, with pale skin framed by a vivid mass of red hair. A slight smile played around the subject's lips, causing tiny dimples to form on her cheeks. Her bright brown eyes seemed to stare into your soul, exposing your thoughts and emotions. Harry finally added the landscape, and used the scenery he looked out onto, framing the distant mountains with the pale, shining rays of the rising sun, while the forest, though in reality dark and dangerous, was depicted as fresh and lush. Finally the first portrait was painted, and he started on painting an exact replica.

One night, Harry lay in his usual spot, gazing up at the night sky. He had never seen so many stars, each one representing so much for those who looked up at them. As he remembered every magical constellation he began to drift off into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, he was rudely awoken as some sort of material was thrown unceremoniously over him. It was light, and shimmered in the moonlight, though he was still draped in its folds. It felt like water woven into silk. He sat up, looking to see who had covered him in this soft material, and froze as his eyes found the faces of three children, looking up at the night sky. Harry himself was casting no shadow, so he surmised that this was the other Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

The young Harry and Hermione gathered around a large crate, which seemed to have something alive in it. It rattled and tearing sounds came from inside, though the trio paid no attention to this. As they scanned the sky, four broomsticks appeared, flew towards them and landed around the crate. They had a harness cobbled together between them, and all six helped strap the crate on securely. The four on broomsticks thanked the three, then flew off. They grinned at each other and high-fived, walking down the steps back into the castle. Suddenly, a voice floated up from below.

"Well, well, well," it whispered, "we _are_ in trouble." They'd left the Invisibility Cloak on the top of the tower.


	22. Black Flames

Harry stayed as still as possible until Filch had disappeared with the two first-years. He quickly waved his wand over the portraits, muttering '_Impervius_', and followed them wearing the Cloak. He followed at a distance, not wanting his footsteps to be heard, and almost bumped into Peeves, who had yet again shot out of a keyhole when he heard footsteps walking past. Fortunately, Peeves was more concerned with chucking pieces of chalk and waste paper at Filch, cackling merrily as he did so.

The two were taken to Professor McGonagall's office on the first floor, whereupon she came in dragging Neville with her, as he had also been wandering the corridors, looking for Harry and Hermione to warn them that Malfoy was ratting them out. Harry learned that they had lost the house of Gryffindor a total of one hundred and fifty points for their troubles, and that they would all be serving detention in about a week's time, about another week before the exams. Coincidentally, he himself had been camping out on the Astronomy Tower, which meant that he was extremely lucky to have camped up there at a time when Professor Sinistra held daytime lessons in one of the classrooms, teaching theory. He immediately proceeded to move his portraits to another tower.

After exactly nine days, Harry, Ron, Neville and Malfoy could be seen heading with Filch to the Forbidden Forest. Harry watched them from his vantage point atop Gryffindor Tower, clutching the other Harry's broomstick. It was extremely late, and the other boys in the dormitories had gone to bed and were fast asleep. He mounted the broom, smiling at the sleekness of the Nimbus Two Thousand, and descended over the wall of the tower.

He came level with the window of the First-year boys' dormitory, and hovered there while he looked in, checking that no-one was awake. Twirling his wand, he turned the handle on the inside of the window, which swung outward, buffeted by the wind. Slowly, he squeezed through the window, almost knocking over the vase of flowers one of the house elves had placed on the window sill to relieve the classic smell of boys' dormitories. As lightly as a cat, he dropped to the floor and took the Invisibility Cloak out from his robes. Taking a scrap of parchment and the quill from the other Harry's bag, Harry wrote a note and pinned it to the Cloak.

'_Just in case._'

Placing the Cloak neatly back under the sheets, Harry climbed back onto the window sill and grabbed the broomstick. Pausing only to shut the window, he flew down to the broomstick shed by the Quidditch pitch and placed the broomstick back in its rightful place. Nobody noticed the blue flash, bright in the dark, which emanated from the shed.

Riddle was in a panic. He was pale, and was sweating profusely, nervous at what was to come.

"Harry," he said quietly, "you're going to have to confront Voldemort. I want you to be careful out there – you're my only hope."

"Any advice on defeating him?" asked Harry.

"Well, I don't think you'll be able to defeat him yet," admitted Riddle, "and you won't need to confront him directly yet. You'll need to save the other Harry though. I can feel it. He's pulled down into the darkness, from which there is no return, but you can prevent that. You have to act at the right time, and, as always, _you must not be seen_!"

Harry returned to the broomstick shed, unable to come back anywhere else due to the anti-apparition wards on the castle, set in place by Salazar after he left. It seemed as though everybody was outside in the grounds – there were crowds of people everywhere. At least three groups were sitting by the lake, dipping their feet in the crystal clear waters or tickling the waving tentacles of the giant squid. This was strange for a Friday. Everybody should be in classes.

Harry crept out of the shed and around the back. He hurried past the people secreted there, hiding his face from them, and ran off towards the gates. He was aiming to get into Hogwarts via the secret tunnel, thus avoiding the large conglomeration of students in front of the castle. Filch was guarding the gates to stop any of the students wandering off into Hogsmeade. Harry watched him from behind a particularly magnificent Douglas Fir as he scowled up the path approaching the gates, wielding his broom menacingly.

Muttering a quiet levitation charm, Harry moved a large rock and dropped it down a nearby embankment, making lots of noise. Filch's head spun round as though it were elastic, staring in the direction the noise came from. After a cursory glance around to check that it wasn't a distraction, he shuffled up and over the embankment with surprising speed, eager to catch an escaping student. Harry slipped out while he was searching for the nonexistent student, taking advantage of the opportunity to aim a kick at Mrs. Norris. Unfortunately, it missed as she scampered off towards Filch.

By the time Harry had got back into the castle, it was early evening. People were still outside, making the most of what sun was left in the late spring evening. Harry, however, was headed to the ground floor. He knew exactly where he had to go, though the entrance was extremely well concealed – so well concealed, in fact, that nobody except those who had used it as an exit had found it. Harry crept down into the dungeons below, which felt even lower than the potions dungeons. He finally reached the bottom of the tightly winding, rather slippery spiral staircase carved from the bedrock of the castle's foundations.

The staircase led to a winding passageway, connecting to a concealed entrance in the cavern beyond. This cavern was quite large, and had columns around the edge, carved with ornate fluting. Large-scale carvings were found between the columns, and the exit to the system of caverns was concealed behind one of those. The only other entrance to the cavern was filled with black flames.

Harry secreted himself behind one of the carvings, getting comfortable. It was night when something finally happened. As Harry's stomach gave an almighty rumble, he heard footsteps. Suddenly, a man walked through the black flames, apparently unharmed, and walked over to a large mirror at the end of the cavern. As he began to study the carvings around the mirror, he began to mutter in a strange language.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi..._"

He turned round, looking to see whether there were any clues to how to work the mirror, and Harry finally recognised him. It was someone who he had met a long time ago.

Quirinus Quirrel.


	23. Voldemort's Folly

Quirrell looked back at the mirror, muttering to himself. As he muttered, a high, cold voice answered back, as though someone else were in the room with them. As he mused, there seemed to be a distant conversation going on behind the black flames, though Quirrell was too engrossed in the mirror to hear it. Suddenly, the first-year Harry burst through the black flames, staring around the final chamber before spotting Quirrell in front of the mirror. The older Harry remained concealed as he watched the exchange between them.

"You!" exclaimed the younger Harry. He went on to explain that he thought Snape would have been the one trying to steal some kind of Stone. Quirrell admitted that he was the one who had tried to kill him in the Quidditch match and that Snape had actually been trying to save him. The older Harry marvelled at this revelation – he knew he'd recognised the feel of Quirrell from somewhere.

Eventually, Quirrell and the high voice decided to get the young Harry in front of the mirror, though he only saw himself winning the House Cup. This certainly was no ordinary mirror, perhaps showing the future. It may even be a different future or one that was impossible, for Gryffindor was currently in last place in the House Championship. Suddenly, the voice demanded to speak directly to the young Harry, and Quirrell unravelled his turban. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was instead a chalk-white face with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

Both Harrys realised at the same time, that the disgusting, yet terrible, face protruding from the back of Quirrell's skull was Voldemort, a mere shade of the powerful dark lord he had once been. He confronted Harry, claiming that he had the Stone. It was clear to both parties that the young Harry indeed had the Stone in his pocket as he glanced nervously towards it.

'What a fool, bringing the one object Voldemort wanted down to where you knew he was going to be,' thought Harry, shaking his head at the young boy, though still being careful to avoid being seen. Quirrell flew at the boy, knocking him to the ground. Harry watched as smoke began to rise from where the two met, blistering Quirrell's skin. The young Harry's wrist turned red where Quirrell had grabbed it, and both were clearly in pain. The two scrabbled around on the floor amidst shouted orders from Voldemort. The young Harry grabbed Quirrell's face, and both were yelling at the excruciating pain.

Harry couldn't take any more. He didn't care whether anyone saw him – he had to save the young Harry. He extricated himself from the hiding place, cursing himself for his cramp and slow movement, and ran to where they both lay, still writhing. Harry wrenched the two apart, pushing the first-year away from Quirrell, surprised that he felt no pain. At the same time, Voldemort left Quirrell, stripping him of his last vestiges of energy and not looking back to see the fate of the battle, believing it to already be lost. A ghostly yell of pure rage filled the cavern, its echoes remaining for at least a minute.

Harry looked back at his other self and suddenly saw what had happened to him. He looked to be dead. Quickly checking his pulse, Harry determined that he was alive, but only just. He took his younger self in his arms and inched around the carvings he had been hiding behind. Almost slipping so many times, he struggled in carrying the almost lifeless body up the tightly winding spiral staircase and out into the dungeons. It was late at night and nobody was around. As he approached the entrance hall, he heard hurried footsteps, so he stayed in the shadows, looking to see who it was. It was a harried-looking Dumbledore, who, rather quickly for a man of such an age, ran up the Grand Staircase. Harry waited until he had rushed past before he followed, carrying the body up to the third floor, where he saw that Dumbledore had also been.

As he reached the hospital wing, Harry opened the double doors slowly, checking to see whether Madam Pomfrey was bustling about around the beds. He peeked through the gap between the doors and, seeing that she was in her office, deposited the young Harry on the nearest bed and left. Worried that she might not notice him until it was too late, Harry opened the door and whistled, hurrying back out into the corridor before she found the new patient.

"What is it now?" Poppy Pomfrey asked herself. "Who's so rude as to just whistle for me and think I'd come running to cater to their every whim?" She opened the door to her office and the scowl that was rapidly building across her features just melted away. A young boy was lying on the bed nearest the doors, which swung slowly as though recently closed. She rushed over to the boy and brushed his hair from his face, looking critically at his hands, neck and wrist which were red and raw.

"It's Harry Potter!" exclaimed Poppy, her eyes finding the scar on his forehead. She sent a patronus out to find Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall and walked around to the store cupboard to get the medicine she needed. As she poured a bright purple potion into Harry's mouth, Professor McGonagall burst through the double doors, closely followed by Dumbledore. "Minerva! Albus! Thank God you're here! Somebody brought young Mr. Potter in like this..."

"Did you see who brought him in?" asked McGonagall.

"No, they'd gone before I left the office. What's that, Albus?" asked Poppy as Dumbledore reached down and picked something up from beneath the bed.

"I don't think I actually know," he replied, stowing it beneath his robes. "Poppy – Minerva and I will return to our duties. Would you please notify us if Harry's situation changes?"

"Of course," she agreed. McGonagall and Dumbledore walked out. When they got out into the corridor, McGonagall turned to Dumbledore with a quizzical look.

"What was that you found, Albus?" she asked.

"The Philosopher's Stone."


	24. The Tenth Weasley

Harry rushed off, far away from the hospital wing so as not to get caught. He climbed a tightly winding wooden spiral staircase hidden in a large column and came out right at the top, on the seventh floor. As he had walked up, we noticed thousands of carvings of pairs of initials in crude hearts. It seemed that he had found what was more commonly known as the Stairway to Heaven.

As Harry peered out from behind the large column, he found that he was almost directly opposite the Room of Requirement as he was right next to an ornate tapestry. He stared at the tapestry for a few moments, concentrating on the intricate stitching whilst making sure the coast was clear. He pointed his wand subtly behind him.

"_Postulatum,_" he muttered, and the door he was so familiar with appeared in the wall. Checking both ways as he did so, he retreated backwards into the Room, which still had the same portraits on the wall. These portraits had counterparts all over the school, but the subjects of these portraits never talked with their counterparts, and their counterparts never knew about them. They kept Harry's presence a secret.

On one of the barer stretches of wall, he hung one copy of his portrait. He'd treated it with the potion that made the pictures move, so the girl in the portrait smiled at him as he hung her up. Then, waving his wand over the other portrait, he shrunk it and leapt through the hole behind Violet's portrait.

As soon as Harry used his spell to transport himself to the Burrow, he ducked into one of the thicker bushes, accidentally squashing a clump of chrysanthemums in his haste. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, clipping the dead heads from her marigolds. Silently, he summoned a smooth, round rock from beside the pond and caught it, smartly tapping it with his wand. If anybody had looked towards the Burrow at that point, they would have noticed a soft orange glow emanating from one of the windows on the third floor. As if by magic, Ginny opened the back door and quickly glanced to where Harry was hiding. She ran over to her mother and began tugging on her skirt to get her attention.

"Mum, there's this funny mushroom in the yard. I think the chickens have been eating it." Mrs. Weasley looked at her only daughter and followed her out to the yard at the front of the house. As they turned the corner, Ginny winked back at Harry, who jumped out of the bush and rushed in through the slowly closing back door and up the stairs. As he reached the third floor, he looked out of the window at the yard, watching Ginny bend over and point to a purple mushroom. While Mrs. Weasley followed suit, he walked into Ginny's room and hid behind the bed. Finally she came in and checked that the coast was clear before pulling Harry out of his hiding place.

"Mum says that if I'm good I can have Charlie's old room at the end of next year. I owe you one, Harry," she cried, grinning madly. She pulled him into a hug, which seemed to last for years. Suddenly she pulled away with the quizzical look she reserved for Harry. "Why are you here this time?"

"Can't I see my only friend sometimes?" he asked with mock petulance.

"No, you can't," she replied, still grinning. "You're not allowed in here any more."

"Well, no early birthday present for you then..." Ginny gave a childlike squeal and began to bounce up and down, clapping her hands with girlish delight.

"Where is it?" she demanded, reminding Harry of his cousin Dudley. Thinking of Dudley, he pondered the possibility that Dudley might be a nice, respectable person in this world. Shaking himself to come back to the real world, he reached under Ginny's bed and pulled out the portrait he had painted. "It's... beautiful..." she cooed, holding it so that it caught the light from the window.

"It's you," replied Harry simply. They hugged again, but were interrupted as the door opened and Mrs. Weasley bustled in with a pile of freshly-washed clothes for Ginny to put away.

"Here, Ginny, these are for you to put..." She paused as she caught sight of Harry standing at Ginny's left shoulder. "Good lord, who are you?" Surprisingly, she didn't seem angry, but that might become more prevalent as the shock wears off. Harry took this opportunity to tell her the truth.

"So..." she began, "you're all alone in this world?" Harry was surprised that Mrs. Weasley cared more about his well-being than about how he had travelled from a different world and through time.

"Yes," he replied, "but Ginny has been helping me. Without her I don't think I could have done any of this. Voldemort would have got the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts." Mrs. Weasley hugged Ginny at these words, immediately forgiving her.

"Well, Ginny, I'm definitely letting you have Charlie's old room. You can stay here, Harry, in Ginny's room. Or rather, her old room now." Mrs. Weasley chuckled at her joke. Harry also chuckled out of politeness, and she smiled at him as though he were her own son. "That's a lovely portrait, dear, by the way. Now, shall we start moving your things, Ginny dear?"

The three of them began to transfer all of Ginny's belongings into Charlie's old room. Harry and Mrs. Weasley shrunk everything and put feather-light charms on all the heavy objects, and Ginny packed her most precious items carefully in a box. Over the course of the rest of the day, everything in Charlie's and Ginny's rooms was swapped, save for a few of Charlie's items, which they put in the attic, waking the ghoul as they did so.

During the final stages of the swap, Mrs. Weasley popped downstairs to make dinner. They were to have juicy, thick sausages with fried eggs, and Harry's favourite treacle tart for pudding. Ginny and Harry went up to Ginny's old room to gather the last few things.

"I want you to keep this in here," she said, motioning to the portrait. "You'll need the passage more than me." Harry smiled, and gave her one last hug before grabbing one of Ginny's boxes and carrying it down to the first floor.

As they all sat down to dinner, Harry grinned at Mrs. Weasley, and thanked her for such gracious hospitality. Finally, he thought as he tucked into the first sausage of his pile, he felt like he belonged.


	25. Summer Surprises

Harry began to tuck into his treacle tart while Ginny struck up a conversation with her mother.

"How long's Harry staying?" she asked curiously.

"I think he can stay for as long as he likes. He's going to need a place to stay between the times when he needs to be out there, saving the world. We can't tell any of the others, though. Not even your father." Ginny visibly relaxed at these words and started on her own slice of tart. Harry smirked as ice cream dribbled down her chin, and let out a mighty laugh as Mrs. Weasley took out a handkerchief and began to wipe her face with it.

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry and Ginny both helped Mrs. Weasley about the house, getting it ready for the return of the four Weasley boys. Soon it was time for them to return, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny set out with Mr. Weasley in their blue Ford Anglia for King's Cross. They all got up in the middle of the night, as London was a long way away, and Harry was careful not to make any noise as Mr. Weasley went past.

Harry spent almost the whole day roaming the house, eating whatever he could from the cupboards. He noticed that Mrs. Weasley had made him plenty of sandwiches the day before and had hidden them in a corner of the pantry. Harry was sitting out in the back garden, soaking up the last rays of sunshine when he heard the distinctive sound of tyres on gravel from the front yard. Quickly, he rushed up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Ron was extremely tired. He'd spent a good few hours on the Hogwarts Express, during which he'd got into a scuffle with Malfoy and his cronies, and he'd now spent the rest of his day sitting in a crowded Ford Anglia, getting cramp and being nibbled by Scabbers when he put his fingers to close to the rat. The journey in the car had got quieter and quieter as its occupants had got more and more tired. Even Fred and George had stopped teasing Percy, who sat with his mother on the magically extended front seat.

When they arrived at the Burrow, Ron drowsily opened the door and climbed out. He dragged his trunk up to the house and inside. For the next few minutes, the tumbledown house shook with the bumping of trunks being dragged upstairs, hitting every stair on the way up, and set down in various bedrooms. Ron cursed his being so young, as this forced him to drag his trunk to the very top of the house. He eventually dropped his trunk in the middle of the floor and half walked, half fell down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was serving up dinner.

As he tucked into his slice of pie, he heard a snatch of conversation between his mother and Ginny at the other end of the table. He was sure they'd mentioned Harry's name. Harry was his best friend at school, and he had no clue why they would be talking about him, until he wrongly supposed that Ginny, being a girl, was excited about seeing him next year. If only girls found him this interesting.

The next day, Ron sent a letter to Harry, inviting him over for the last couple of weeks of the summer. He sent the same invitation to Hermione, and she wrote back immediately.

'_Dear Ronald,_

_I'm having a pretty good summer so far, but it has only been three days. I hope your three days have been delightful, too._

_I've talked to my parents, and they say they'd rather I stay at home this summer – they've missed me too much. I think I'll be able to visit next summer._

_Tell me what Harry says when you get his reply so that I'll know where to send my owls in the last few weeks._

_I hope the rest of your summer is as wonderful as it has been so far,_

_Hermione'_

After a week, he still hadn't heard from Harry, and supposed that he was busy. However, after another week, he still hadn't heard back, and was getting rather worried. Hermione had tried to console him through her letters, trying to convince him that Harry was fine, but in the end Ron resolved to break Harry out of Little Whinging and smuggle him into the Burrow.

Ginny woke up early to the sound of her mother yelling. Before she went to see what she was yelling at, she climbed the two flights of stairs to her old room, careful to avoid the creakier floorboards. She padded over to the door and opened it. There was a lump in the bed, breathing softly, and she nestled her bare toes in the carpet as she watched it for a while. Another yell from downstairs quickly brought her back to her senses. She silently closed the door and made her way downstairs.

She got down almost to the bottom of the stairs, and looked over the banister at the scene in the kitchen. Sitting around the table were Ron, Fred and George, and a black-haired boy with his back to her. She noticed Fred and George were smirking behind their hands, but still protested in outrage at the sentence their mother was imposing upon them.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" Mrs. Weasley yelled, prodding Fred in the chest. "You could have _died_, you could have been _seen_, you could have lost your father his _job_..." As she listened, it dawned on her that Ron had flown the Ford Anglia hundreds of miles to rescue the black-haired boy. "I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear." Harry?! Ginny squealed and ran upstairs, climbing the three flights in leaps and bounds.

She burst into Harry's room and over to the bed, shaking him awake.

"Wuzzgoinon?" he mumbled.

"You're here! I mean, the other you!" She squealed again in fright.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, "they won't be coming in here. Ginny watched nervously out of the window as the other Harry and the three Weasleys threw gnomes into the neighbouring field. The other Harry seemed to be quite good, throwing them very far for his first time. Ginny noted this with a slight smile. After fifteen minutes, they had come back inside, and Harry still wasn't dressed, having been unable to persuade Ginny to leave the room.

Ginny heard them thundering up the stairs amidst another heated discussion. As she poked her head round the door, she caught sight of the two first years coming up, heading to Ron's room. She slammed the door shut and leant against it, breathing hard. Straining her ears, she heard Ron mutter.

"Ginny. You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy, she never shuts up normally."

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. They were safe.


	26. Sorted

Harry decided to spend the last two weeks of the summer at Hogwarts. When Ginny came back into his room after he had got changed, he took her over to her portrait, which was now hanging on his wall. Slowly, keeping an air of tension, he grasped the edge of the portrait and pulled, revealing a passage behind it. In silence, he pulled her along by her hand, walking slowly so that she could keep up. At the other end, he pushed what seemed to be the end of the passage, but which turned out to be another portrait of her in a large, round room covered in portraits.

"What is this place?" she asked in a whisper, as though they weren't supposed to be there.

"The Room of Requirement. Very few people know about this place. Not even Dumbledore knows of the existence of this room. It can be whatever you want it to be, and will contain whatever you need."

"And you need portraits of people?"

"No, there are passages behind each of the portraits, like yours. I use them to get around the school unnoticed. The great thing about this particular layout is that someone else can be in a different layout of the room at the same time, unlike any other two layouts. I'm letting you in on this secret because I trust you, Ginny. If you ever want to get in, the password is _Postulatum_. Come visit me sometime," he explained.

Ginny nodded in agreement. She would visit him whenever she got the time. As Harry spent his time in the room, Ginny brought him snacks from the Burrow, forgetting that Harry could get food from the kitchens. From time to time, Harry visited the library as Madam Pince was away for the holidays. He took a huge pile of books from there and began to use them in the room, learning more advanced magic at an accelerated pace.

Contained within his pile of books were a number of volumes written by a man named Gilderoy Lockhart. He seemed to be well-travelled, but extremely arrogant. He had saved countless villages from terrors such as werewolves, hags, trolls and banshees, and was always writing about himself as though he were God's gift to mankind. Aside from the battling of monsters, he seemed rather air-headed; a lilac-loving, hair care-obsessed fool with an apparently charming smile. Harry had the image of a blond fool, grinning and showing off his shining teeth, and threw the books across the room, disgusted. The magic was all very basic anyway.

As Harry learned from the books, he was able to practice the practical side of the magic, by brewing potions or casting spells, as the room always catered to his needs, as did the house elves if the room couldn't. It was nearing the end of August and Harry was creeping back to library when he spotted Madam Pince, dusting the bookshelves. Harry quickly and silently hurried back to the room, followed by a shriek of terror.

"The books! Someone has stolen the books!" Madam Pince ran out of the library, crashing through the doors, and rushed towards the Grand Staircase. Brandishing her feather duster, she careered into the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and was knocked slightly off balance by the collision. "Sugar Quill!" she yelled, getting flustered as the gargoyle sprang to its feet, seemingly slowly. As it was moving aside, she bustled past it and up the moving spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, slamming the door wide open at the top.

Dummbledore barely flinched as a red-faced woman appeared in the doorway with such force that a few small books fell from the bookshelves around his office. He watched interestedly as she bustled around, tidying them up, before addressing him.

"Albus, somebody's stolen the books! There are gaps in the shelves! There's a thief in Hogwarts!"

"Calm down, Irma," said Dumbledore calmly. "I'm sure there is no real thief. Perhaps one of the members of staff borrowed some books while you were away?"

"No," she sighed, shaking her head with both sadness and rage, "too many have gone." Dumbledore got up and followed the shaking Madam Pince through the corridors to the library, stopping as she opened the doors and gestured inside. "See?" she announced. "There are so many books missing."

"But Irma," replied Dumbledore, "nothing seems to be missing."

"NOTHING MISS... ing?!" She trailed off as she looked around and saw the shelves full with books, all in perfect order. "But I swear there were..."

"Never mind, Irma," murmured Dumbledore softly. "Let's get Severus to make you a Draught of Peace." He led her out of the library as she continued to mutter to herself, shaking her head, and steered her around the obstacles in their path on the way to the dungeon.

Harry, feeling rather flustered, walked through Ginny's passage, returning to the Burrow the day before they set out for Hogwarts. He managed to catch Ginny walking past his room when the other Weasleys weren't around, and so bid her goodbye. It wasn't so much a goodbye as 'see you later', but it was the end of the summer, and it seemed to symbolise the end of so much that was good. Though they knew they would see each other in just over a day, they both shed a silent tear that tey hoped the other wouldn't see.

Ginny travelled to London with the rest of the Weasleys and Harry in the Ford Anglia, which Mr. Weasley had enlarged even further than usual to accommodate the two extra people and trunks this year. The journey was made overnight, and, as always, they made it to King's Cross station just on time. Percy, Fred and George ran through onto the platform, eager to see their friends. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed, accompanying Ginny and leaving Harry and Ron on the platform.

Ginny was exchanging goodbyes with her parents when the train's whistle blew. Wondering where Harry and Ron had got to, they looked to the wrought iron archway which led back into the main station. They got a sudden shock as they saw that an iron wall stood at the end of the platform, preventing them from leaving. Groups of parents were waving their wands at the wall, trying to get it to return to being an arch and, at around five past eleven, they were successful.

Harry decided that it was time to leave the room and watch Ginny getting sorted. He opened Violet's portrait and walked along the passage to the antechamber just off the Great Hall. He opened the door just enough to see through, but not be seen himself, and watched as the sorting progressed. The rather pretty blonde girl with radish earrings looked straight at Harry, as though she knew where he was, but got quickly called up and sorted into Ravenclaw. Eventually, Ginny made up the grand finale of the sorting, and was unsurprisingly sorted into Gryffindor, her face, her hair and the red of the Gryffindor crest matching perfectly in colour and shade, as well as those radish earrings Harry had noticed earlier. That girl was still looking in his direction. Ginny half ran to the Gryffindor table and sat near most of the other first-year Gryffindors, just down from her brothers. He counted the red heads. One... Two... Three... Four... Just four.


	27. Hagrid's Discovery

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Bubble and the one person in Guyana who read my whole story so far :D You represent your whole country well. Also, I might add some information about future updates on my profile.

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Harry worked his way outside, using another of the portraits. Knowing the second-year Harry and Ron, they'd try to get here themselves. He scanned the dark horizon for any sign of them, getting more and more worried as the sun slowly sank and night fell with it. When he suddenly heard a roaring sound and several large bangs, he looked up to see a blue Ford Anglia zooming across the night sky with its lights blazing. Staring wildly out of the windscreen were two ghostly white faces, one framed in red hair and one in black.

Shaking himself out of his shock and surprise, he saw the car dip violently towards the lake, showing no sign of slowing as it flew lower and lower. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Harry pulled his wand from his pocket slightly more vigorously than intended, losing his grip on it and sending it spinning upwards. He dived forwards, mimicking the car's fall and grabbing his wand in midair. As he fell, he twisted and pointed the wand at the car, sweeping it around.

Harry toppled into the soft grass, knocking his head against a concealed rock. Everything went fuzzy for a while and he just registered some sort of noise in the night. He couldn't tell whether it was loud or quiet, far or near, or even which direction it came from. Struggling to get up, he held his head in his hands, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Sitting up, he looked over to his left. There seemed to be movement out of the corner of his eye and he looked towards it. With sudden realisation, his eyes widened and he stared at the crash before him. The blue Ford Anglia was almost wrapped around a gnarled tree, which seemed to be thrashing its branches in an attempt to get it out from its branches. Harry quickly stumbled over to a nearby bush as the two figures fell out of the car, coughing and spluttering. As the car pulled itself from the clutches of the tree, released the boys' luggage and drove off into the forest, Harry sank back into unconsciousness, relieved that they were safe.

It was dark. Harry could see absolutely nothing. He had this strange sensation of floating, but at the same time was aware of a sharp pain in the small of his back. His face was in some places warm, and in others cold, and it felt oddly wet. As he began to regain his sense of smell, his eyes snapped open and he yelped with surprise.

"Ah, yer up then," came a gruff but friendly voice. "Gerroff him, Fang! Give him some air..." A weight was lifted off his stomach, and at the same time the pain in the small of his back was lessened. Large hands roughly picked him up and carried him into a small hut of some kind, where he was laid upon a lumpy bed. His hand drooped over the edge of the bed, and so got thoroughly licked. He opened his eyes, and he saw a sight that almost made him immediately shut them again. A giant man with a terrifying presence was towering over him. "I'm Hagrid," he introduced himself, "Rubeus Hagrid. Who are you and how do yeh look like Harry?"

"Me?" Harry asked groggily. "But I'm Harry. I've always been Harry. What's a Hagrid?"

"Hagrid's my name, silly," the giant chuckled. "I know Harry and he's only twelve. What're you? Fifteen?"

"Dunno," said Harry, steadily regaining his lucidity. "About that, I suppose. I've never really had any proper birthdays..." Harry proceeded to tell him, reluctantly, about who he was and what he'd done. He made it look as though he'd been sent to protect the other Harry, and if necessary, those around him. The giant Hagrid accepted this and turned to make a cup of tea, hanging his large, bronze kettle over the fire. "Don't tell anyone," pleaded Harry with a note of panic in his voice. Hagrid promised not to.

Over the next two terms, Harry helped Hagrid around the grounds from time to time, often skipping weeks at a time and careful not to be seen by anyone. From time to time, he noticed Ginny hanging around Hagrid's hut, looking lost and confused, but every time he opened the door to help her she turned tail and fled before she could even realise it was him. One of the times, Ginny seemed to be staring at something, horrified. Harry rushed out to see what was wrong, and again she fled. Hagrid's chickens, however, weren't so active. They'd all been killed, probably by a fox. When Hagrid came back from that day's patrol of the grounds, he was mortified, and immediately rushed off with two of the fowl corpses towards the castle.

"Harry," Hagrid panted as he opened the door to his hut, returning from Dumbledore's office, "there's been all sorts o' trouble going on at the castle. Someone's bin petrifying people. People think it's you – I mean the other you – who's bin doing all this. Dumbledore don't believe a word of it though. I told him myself, I said, Harry couldn't have done it."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry smiled, though still concerned about the people who had been petrified. "I owe you one. Or at least, the other me does." They both chuckled at the joke, then sat there in silence, contemplating the worrying goings-on. Hagrid made another cup of tea and told Harry of the latest victims – Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

After a delightful Christmas in which Harry persuaded Ginny to get to know the other Harry, it was just two months before the young Harry and Ron knocked on Hagrid's door. Harry quickly hid under Hagrid's bed in a space that was surprisingly more roomy than it looked. He saw Harry and Ron's feet as they came in and began to talk with Hagrid. Harry stuck his finger in his ear, twisting it in an attempt to dislodge some earwax. He must have heard them wrong. They were talking about Hagrid opening some chamber and letting out a monster. Surely they were talking about another Hagrid?

Suddenly, there was a sharp knocking at the door. Hagrid dropped what seemed to be a fruitcake that he was offering to Harry and Ron, and seized his crossbow, urging the two to get back under their Invisibility Cloak. Harry and Ron stood close to where Harry was hiding, so he could hear every word they whispered. The man who came in behind Dumbledore was apparently the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Though Dumbledore protested at the indignity and the lack of any real proof, Fudge was here to send Hagrid to Azkaban, the wizard prison.

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," declared Dumbledore, drawing himself up to his full height in the hope that this might persuade Fudge to act for justice, not just from public pressure. Unfortunately, there was at that moment another loud knock on the door, and Dumbledore let Lucius Malfoy into the hut. Fudge caved in to the new pressure, and this sealed Hagrid's fate.

Dumbledore was to be relieved of his headship by the governors, led by Malfoy. No doubt he had threatened the other governors with something, probably some sort of hideous curse. Hagrid paled at the thought of going to Azkaban combined with Dumbledore's future absence from the school, and protested vehemently at the mere notion of his removal. However, even his word could not save Dumbledore from this. As Hagrid had said, with the two men Harry respected most at Hogwarts, 'there'd be killin's next.'


	28. Azkaban

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Slowbo - Happy birthday! Also, I've started writing a second fanfiction, as a sequel to Deathly Hallows. I'm calling it Harry Potter and the Wand of Woe

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Harry followed Hagrid, Dumbledore and Fudge through the night, keeping to the shadows. He watched them climb into one of the school carriages waiting for them, after which it began to move unaided towards the front gates and around to Hogsmeade station. Rushing out from the shadows, he quickly clambered onto the back of the carriage and hung there until they reached the station.

Three wizards were waiting to escort them onto the train and back to London. As soon as the six of them had climbed onto the train, it began to roll away. Quickly, Harry jumped onto the end of the last car, wrenching open the door as the train began to pick up speed. Sagging with relief and tiredness, he stumbled into the end compartment and sank into a chair.

Over the next two weeks, Harry watched and followed as Hagrid was passed between busy-looking officials and eventually ferried over the sea to Azkaban. As they approached the gloomy-looking island, waves of cold and fear came over Harry, washing away every mote of happiness. He beached his boat on the opposite side of the island to Hagrid and watched as the officials, including Fudge who had come to accompany him on the last leg of his journey, escorted Hagrid to his cell. It wasn't in the central tower, where the most dangerous criminals were kept, but was close to it. There were fewer dementors patrolling the outside of the tower, but the cells here were subject to the elements.

Harry ran over to Hagrid's cell when the Ministry officials had left. He was already huddled up in one corner, shaking violently. Harry took out his wand, and thought of the happiest memories he could, starting with the most recent ones. His mind first came to his conversations with Ginny that year.

*

"I found an enchanted diary. It's really good because it writes back to me and gives me advice. It doesn't nag me like mum does, either."

"What have you been telling it?" asked Harry. Hagrid was tending to the unicorns in the forest again, and so Harry and Ginny were in his hut alone.

"Nothing," replied Ginny evasively, blushing and not meeting his eyes.

"Nothing about me, then? No tales of a time-travelling wizard who keeps confronting Voldemort?" Ginny flinched at the name, then shook her head shyly.

"Maybe..." she said in the tone of a naughty child. She looked up at him and smiled. Harry couldn't complain about anything she did.

*

"Ginny, I'm not going to be around forever. I'm going to miss huge chunks out of my life. I can't put that burden on you."

"Don't worry," reassured Ginny. "However long you're gone, I can wait for you. That's what friends are for."

"But one day I'll always be gone. Tom told me that if I ever get seen by the other Harry the paradox resolves itself. I don't know what the means, but it's got to mean the end of one of us. That'll probably be me..."

"But what can we do about that? There's no point in worrying about that now."

"I want you to promise me one thing," said Harry, a serious look coming into his eyes. "I want you to get to know the other Harry. He should be like me. We both grew up in the same way and we both made friends with Ron and Hermione. The only difference is that I've had a couple of years of experience from the past."

"But you look older," said Ginny. "That's a difference. Your voice is deeper, you're taller and you're a lot more serious."

"Just think of me as the other Harry's future. We'll be the same age one day."

*

"Harry, I'm scared. There's huge chunks of time I just can't remember. I can't concentrate on anything and I'm always so tired."

"That's just nerves," Harry said, trying to reassure the shaking Ginny. "Hogwarts does that to some people. Why not get a calming tonic from Madam Pomfrey?"

"But I'm scared of what I might be doing when I can't remember stuff. The last time I came back with blood all over my hands."

"Yes," conceded Harry, "but that was your blood, remember? Something had cut your fingers, that's all. You probably cut them on a sharp bit of wall or one of the suits of armour. There's nothing to worry about." Ginny sniffed and nodded. "Now let's go and see Madam Pomfrey about that calming tonic." Harry guided her through the castle, using the portraits to avoid the students wandering around at lunchtime.

*

Harry's happiness faded at that last memory, worrying about Ginny. He thought of another memory, better than those. His mind finally rested on his first proper meal at the Burrow, when he had first felt like he had belonged to a family. In any case, those were the nicest sausages he had ever tasted. As he cast his patronus charm, Hagrid visibly brightened, and even managed a small smile.

"Harry! What are yeh doing here? Yeh know yeh shouldn't be here. What if the..." He shuddered violently. "...dementors catch yeh? The Ministry will after yeh!"

"Calm down, Hagrid," shushed Harry. "You know the dementors are blind. They won't suspect a thing."

"But they'll feel yer patronus, Harry. They'll know yer there. You gotta be careful, Harry. They'll kill yeh if yer not in a cage."

"Cell," Harry corrected. "They'll only feel a patronus if it's attacking them. A passive patronus serves only as a light relief from the dementors' presence. We're safe, Hagrid. And anyway, do you really want to be left alone again?"

"No," Hagrid admitted, shaking his head fervently, as though trying to shake that recent, terrible memory from his head. "Stay with me, Harry. Yeh've bin good ter me this year. I'm sure Dumbledore would be happy to keep you as a permanent addition. He's a good man, Dumbledore."

"I'm sorry Hagrid, I can't let Dumbledore know. But I can't stay here, either."


	29. Knives and Fawkes

Hagrid stared at the glowing stag before him. He was sure he was going crazy. How could a patronus exist without its caster nearby? Of course, Hagrid didn't know much about patronuses as they would have come up three years after he was expelled. He preferred the more hands-on subjects, such as Herbology and, his favourite, Care of Magical Creatures.

Talking of which, Professor Kettleburn was retiring at the end of the year. If everybody finally realised that he was innocent, he might be able to have a word with Dumbledore about the vacancy. It had been Hagrid's dream to professionally handle magical creatures, and as such his duties as gamekeeper came very close. Oh, Dumbledore was a great man.

Yes, Dumbledore would know what was going on. First Harry disappears in a blue flash, then Harry's patronus stays to guard him. He still didn't think it was possible. But Dumbledore was a genius. But he couldn't tell Dumbledore. Harry had made him promise.

But still, Harry had been interfering in the other Harry's life. He remembered when the other Harry had been caught by Filch, dripping mud in the castle after a particularly wet Quidditch practice. Harry had managed to persuade Nearly Headless Nick to get Peeves to drop a vanishing cabinet over Filch's office. The other Harry had a lucky escape that day.

Harry had returned to Hogwarts, skipping a few weeks as he did so. He strolled along the tunnel from Hogsmeade to the mirror on the fourth floor. Suddenly, he heard Professor McGonagalls' voice echoing through the corridors.

"_All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please._" Harry ran down a flight of stairs hidden behind a tapestry of a purple ogre. He flew down with such speed that, even though he stepped on the trick step, his momentum was enough to pull him out, although causing him to almost trip at the same time. He was running along a corridor on the ground floor when he spotted the young Harry and Ron running across the corridor in front of him, clearly also heading to the staff room.

The door to the staff room was ajar, and so Harry could clearly hear everything that was being said while he hid in a hidden alcove behind another tapestry. As he listened, his jaw dropped in horror. Ginny, his best friend, had been taken into what was called the Chamber of Secrets. Even Professor Flitwick had burst into tears. He watched as Professor Lockhart hurried away towards his office as he went to prepare for the upcoming battle in the Chamber of Secrets. When the young Harry and Ron also ran past, hoping to catch up with him, he was shaken from his shock and decided to pursue them at a distance.

After a heated argument in Lockhart's office, it transpired that he was a fake. Harry realised that it was he who had written all those books that he had been disgusted by. How could Dumbledore, great though he was, have seen fit to hire this fool? Harry ducked quickly as the two boys came out of the office, pointing their wands at Lockhart in front of them. He followed the three down a flight of stairs, after which they came out on the same floor they had come from, and up to the girls' toilets.

Harry listened at the door to the toilets. He heard from the conversation inside that the toilets were haunted by the ghost of a young girl named Myrtle, who had died in that very room. She had apparently come out of her cubicle to find a pair of bright yellow eyes just before she died. After a few more seconds there was this strange hissing noise, mingled with a voice saying "open up". He would have recognised it as Parseltongue had he known what that was. Still, it was accompanied by a great grinding sound and gasps of surprise.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," came a voice close to the door, presumably Lockhart's. After a little while longer, he heard the cry of Lockhart being pushed, then of Harry and finally Ron. Eventually, Harry deemed that it was safe to go in, and he pushed open the door to see a gaping hole where one of the sinks should be.

"Who are you?" asked a voice behind him. Harry turned slowly, trying to see who it was out of the corner of his eye. It was the ghost of a girl around the age that the young Harry was now.

"Shush," hissed Harry, "you can't tell anyone. I'm here for Harry, but he can't know about me. If he does, the world is doomed to fall into the hands of Lord Voldemort." Myrtle squealed at the sound of this name, then nodded. She made the zipping motion over her mouth, indicating that she would keep his secret, and flew over to perch on a nearby toilet.

"How are they going to get out of there?" she asked. "It's a long way back up." In a flash of inspiration, Harry rushed off out of the room, leaving Myrtle bewildered. He ran through the corridors, up and down flights of stairs, until he found what he was looking for. He ran through the list of wizard sweets he'd heard of.

"Sugar Quills, Cockroach Cluster, Fizzing Whizzbees, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Choco-" The gargoyle sprang aside, allowing Harry to climb the moving staircase until he reached the heavy oak door. He pushed it open when he realised Dumbledore wouldn't be there, then hurried over to Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. Stroking the magnificent bird, he looked around the room.

Something glittered on one of the shelves. Harry climbed over to it and pulled it down. Along with the sorting hat came a glittering sword encrusted with rubies.

"Dumbledore," he muttered, "you're a genius." Fawkes let out a hoot at this, and flew over to him. Harry, the parts of his plan finally falling into place, put the sword back into the hat. "Could you take these down into the Chamber of Secrets, Fawkes?" he asked. The bird grabbed the hat and cocked its head, confused by the instructions. "Here, I'll show you." Harry strode out of the office and back to Myrtle's toilets.

"There you go," said Harry, pointing to the entrance to the chamber. Fawkes took off and flew down, singing as he did so. Harry could only wish them luck as he turned and left the bathroom for the final time.


	30. The Exodus of the Innocent

Harry returned to the lonely, rocky island, guided by the shining light of his patronus. It remained in Hagrid's cell, keeping him sane as the dementors attempted to suck the last vestiges of normality from the prisoners' lives. Hagrid barely flinched as he suddenly appeared right next to him, sitting on the bench in his cell.

"Hagrid, are you ok?" Harry asked. Hagrid looked tired more than anything, and this bleak landscape seemed to have taken its toll on him.

"Yeah," Hagrid mumbled, sounding rather incoherent. "I knew yer father, I did, Harry. He was a good man. Always hangin' around with those marauders of his. That gang always caused trouble. Just like you, come ter think of it." Harry had never known about his father, and leaned forward eagerly to hear more.

"What was he like, Hagrid?"

"Ah, he was a kind man, even to his enemies. He saved old Snape's life once. That's why Snape hates yeh, Harry. He couldn't bear ter be in debt with yer father. He and his friends were right gits ter Snape, though. I don't want yeh ter think he was perfect or nothing. And his friends were just as bad."

"His friends? What were they like? Are any of them still alive?" Harry wanted to seize this opportunity. He could visit his father's friends and find out more about him.

"Yeah, there are some of them still around. Remus Lupin was the sensible one of the bunch. Dumbledore says he's gonna fire Lockhart and bring him in for next year. Apparently Lockhart's a fraud. But anyway, Dumbledore said he's a werewolf, so some o' the teachers were getting worried about him, but Dumbledore said he's gonna be fine. Great man, Dumbledore." Hagrid was rambling.

"Any other friends?" prompted Harry.

"Yeah, yer godfather, Sirius Black. He's in Azkaban right now. Blew up young Peter Pettigrew, he did, but always denied it. Always said he was innocent." There was a sudden noise coming from outside. Dispelling his patronus, Harry left the cell in a flash. As he hid behind a large rock, he saw Cornelius Fudge working his way back up to Hagrid's cell, accompanied by a contingent of grim-faced wizards.

"Ah, Hagrid," said Fudge. "We've come for your release. Your name's been cleared, it seems. Would have come sooner, but the owl delivering your release papers from Hogwarts was, shall we say, very old and tired." With that he pulled a ruffled-looking owl from his pocket, along with a large bunch of keys. A quick jingling of metal told Harry that the Minister had unlocked Hagrid's cell.

Harry peered out from behind the rock. Hagrid was being led along the narrow, winding path down to the jetty where the Minister's boat was tethered. Harry was surprised that the Minister had not sent someone else to get Hagrid, but, he thought, he probably wanted it to seem as though he was taking action. As the boat pulled away from the island, you could almost get the impression of cogs turning or water filtering through the bedrock as Harry finally realised what Hagrid had said.

As he passed another dementor on the third floor of the tower, he found it increasingly strange that they didn't notice him, and that he could therefore move freely through them, as they also seemed to be completely blind. He came to realise that ceasing to exist had its advantages. Eventually, he reached the floor he was heading for, and looked in each of the cells. In the fourth one he came to, he saw no occupant, save for a large, black dog. As it noticed him, it turned towards him and, instead of barking, climbed upon its hind legs. In the blink of an eye, the dog was no longer standing there, but was replaced by the ragged form of a man.

"Sirius?" asked Harry.

"Who are you?" he replied, scowling.

"Your godson."

The two of them headed quickly towards the boat Harry had arrived in. Sirius was in his dog form and Harry had his patronus, so the dementors flew around what Harry imagined to be an invisible shield centred upon them. They easily reached their vessel of freedom and began to sail quickly to the mainland, talking all the while.

"Hagrid told me your blew up a boy named Peter Pettigrew. Is this true?"

"No, Harry, and we were no young boys by that time. Pettigrew was the one who betrayed your parents. I'd cornered him on a London street, but he blew up the street instead of coming quietly. The Ministry called it a gas explosion. When the aurors turned up, I transfigured my wand into a lamp post and was forced to go with them. They never found Pettigrew though – just his finger."

"I've got an admission to make, too," said Harry. "I'm not your true godson. There's another Harry Potter, and I've been watching over him since before he was born. Would you help me in this by not telling him, or anyone, about me? If not for me, do it for your true godson. I can't be seen by him. two Harrys aren't supposed to exist together, and if they meet up I have no clue what will happen."

"I promise. I wish to watch over him, too. Now, let's head off to London, to get my wand back." Harry tapped the edge of the boat with his wand and they sped off down the East coast of Britain faster than any Muggle boat could hope to sail.

In London, the two of them had to hide from Muggle policemen and passers-by alike, for fear that any one of them may actually be a witch or wizard, all of whom would instantly recognise Sirius. A large, black dog would attract even more attention, so he was forced to skulk in the shadows until they finally got to the right street. Te road no longer looked new, and nor did the buildings either side of it. It was a testament to the amount of time Sirius had endured in Azkaban. Eventually coming up to the lamp post, which looked strangely lopsided, Harry waved his wand over it and it returned to its original form.

"Hang on," said Sirius slowly. "This doesn't look right." The wand was bent as though a tiny car had crashed into it. In truth, the lamp post had been crashed into so many times due to its odd placement that its true form had broken and attempted to reform itself by magic. It had failed.

"Damn it!" cursed Sirius.

"Never mind," assured Harry, "I'm sure you can go without a wand for a while. But anyway, shall we look in on your Harry?"


	31. Crookshanks

Sirius let out a primal howl of rage. As Harry looked up the street, he saw a few lights flicking on and began to panic. Before the resident Muggles could look through their net curtains or open the window to holler at the two wizards in the street, Harry dragged Sirius into a side alley. Sirius made no effort to aid Harry in the escape from the prying eyes of the Muggles, many of whom would be as nosy as Aunt Petunia. With a pang of regret, Harry realised that, hate them though he may, he would never see his true aunt and uncle ever again.

"Sirius! Sirius! Calm down, Sirius! Please, the Muggles will be after us!" Harry struggled to find some motivation for silence. "How about we see your Harry?" Sirius brightened up immediately with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Can we do that?" he asked. "Do you know where he lives?"

"Yes," replied Harry, "but you have to promise me that you won't interfere."

"Is he in trouble then? Are they treating him badly?"

"All I'm saying," said Harry, "is that this job is restricted in what we can do. We're observers only, unless he's really in danger." Sirius promised not to interfere, desperate to see his true godson.

Vernon Dursley hated the magical world. Some could equate him to Salazar Slytherin, although as a Muggle. He believed that only Muggles should exist in the world, devoid of anything... unnatural... Vernon shuddered at the thought of his nephew's unnaturalness. It was unfortunate that he had married into such a family, but at least his wife also disapproved of it all. Ah, she was as much a sufferer as he was, if not more so. To be entirely honest, most of his hatred for that... stuff... was probably him wanting to protect his wife. She'd been through so much...

Through the window, Vernon spotted a hooded boy looking at the house, accompanied by a huge black dog. He could tell that the boy was looking at him as the dark opening to the hood was pointing in the direction of the house. The dog was also staring avidly at the house, which Vernon thought was very strange. It was almost as strange as that cat he'd seen so many years ago. He would never forget the cat looking at the map, no matter how much he'd tried to forget.

"Begone, you hoodlum!" he shouted after opening the window. The hooded boy muttered something to his dog and they left, slouching round the corner and out of sight. The neighbourhood was going to the dogs.

The next day, Harry and Sirius were setting up camp unseen beside one of the houses close to the Durselys'. Sirius had stayed with his dog form to avoid arousing suspicion if they got caught in the morning. Harry soon drifted into sleep with the great shaggy dog curling up next to him. Sirius was indeed a very comfy pillow.

Suddenly, Harry awoke to a big bang. He sat bolt upright and took a few moments to register what he was seeing. There was a large purple bus right outside the house, with a young Harry lying next to it. Harry looked to his side, but Sirius wasn't there. The black dog had strayed into the light outside the camp and had been seen by Harry. It was still slowly approaching the petrified young boy, who was staring dazedly at the bus.

"Sirius!" Harry hissed. He crawled over to the dog and dragged it back by its tail. "What were you thinking? You were seen by him! That's not good!" As they looked back, they saw the young Harry glance back into the darkness surrounding them, but he thankfully didn't see them and boarded the triple decker bus.

Harry and Sirius had eventually found the young Harry in Diagon Alley, which was admittedly the safest place for him, but the most dangerous place for Sirius. There was not a single moment in which Sirius could leave his dog form, save for the evenings when they were in their room in the Leaky Cauldron. Even then, they didn't like to risk their getting caught during the night and Sirius continued to sleep as a dog. Harry noticed that Sirius slept with a small newspaper cutting, but he thought nothing of it.

By some sheer coincidence, they had managed to take the room opposite the one in which the young Harry was staying. Harry and Sirius shared a look of despair at the lack of protection Harry was afforded here. If anybody else had been staying in this room, they could easily have attacked Harry during the night. Nevertheless, they could now hear when Harry left his room in the mornings, and so they followed him.

Close to the end of the holidays, the young Harry had met up with Ron and Hermione. Harry watched with sadness as they greeted each other enthusiastically, though that sadness was finally mingled with a sense of pride for what he had achieved so far and a sense of being glad at his counterpart's happiness. While they were all together, they went to the Magical Menagerie. Sirius was growling at Ron's rat, Scabbers, from the shadows.

"Wait in Knockturn Alley," said Harry. Sirius reluctantly padded away. Harry looked through the window at the front of the shop and listened in to the conversations going on inside. A huge, orange cat jumped down onto Ron's head and he yelled out. Scabbers scampered away out of the shop and Ron and the now third year Harry followed suit. Thankfully, they were too preoccupied with finding Scabbers to notice him.

Hermione stayed behind and was talking to the woman behind the counter. She seemed to be stroking the giant orange cat while handing over a few silver coins and a gold one. She picked up the small bottle Ron had left behind and left with the cat, who was apparently called Crookshanks.

Relaying this experience to Sirius the next night, the haggard man seemed to be deep in thought. He suddenly perked up as though he'd thought of something.

"Harry, do you know what an animagus is?"


End file.
